


Star-Crossed

by Insertpoetryhere



Category: Frühlings Erwachen | Spring Awakening - Frank Wedekind, Spring Awakening - Sheik/Sater
Genre: Arranged Marriage, F/M, Family Feuds, Gen, M/M, Period-Typical Homophobia, Period-Typical Sexism, Politics, Pregnancy, Romeo and Juliet AU, Suicidal Thoughts, characters are mostly based off of the play, elope, messy Moritz loves his gf
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-29
Updated: 2020-04-02
Packaged: 2020-05-30 18:20:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 11
Words: 34,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19408789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Insertpoetryhere/pseuds/Insertpoetryhere
Summary: Two feuding families, 4 youths who find love in Verona one fateful night, and the politics that try to tear them apart. An age old tale, being told once again.





	1. the night we met

“O, then I see Queen Mab hath been with you. She is the fairies' midwife, and she comes In shape no bigger than an agate stone On the forefinger of an alderman-“

The blond haired boy looked up from the book he read from, watching the smooth stone skid across the glass-calm water. The ripples on the surface disturbed the serene peace of the lake, making the boy who had thrown the stone smile from ear to ear. He leaned in the sand to pick another stone from the scattered array at his feet.

The blond youth sighed. “Drawn with a team of little atomies Over men's noses as they lie asleep; Her wagon spokes made of long spinners' legs, The cover, of the wings of grasshoppers; Her traces, of the smallest spider web-“

The three plunks of another rock being tossed across the surface of the water. The black-haired boy’s eyes shone, grey like the water they stood by in the cloudy, summer heat. The sleeves of his crisp blue undershirt had been rolled carelessly up to the bend of his elbow and his stockings and shoes had long been discarded to some unknown corner of the beach they sat on. The only item of clothing that had held any chance of looking even slightly presentable was his dark blue jacket, which had been carefully draped over a rock upon his companion’s no-so-friendly request.

“-Her collars, of the moonshine's wat'ry beams; Her whip, of cricket's bone; the lash, of film; Her wagoner, a small grey-coated gnat, Not half so big as a round little worm Pricked from the lazy finger of a maid; Her chariot is an-“ the blond cleared his throat. “Moritz, God forbid I even ask, but are you listening?”

Moritz himself finally tore his attention away from the gentle waters. He smiled at his friend. “Yes, Hanschen. You, my friend and wise tutor, have my utmost attention.”

“I’m finding that hard to believe.” Hanschen closed the book, setting it in the sand next to him. “Do as you wish, then. But don’t come crying to me when your father berates you for not understanding your reading assignment.”

“Trust me, I wasn’t going to understand it even with your help. It all just sounds like the ramblings of a drunken madman.” Moritz sneered, picking up yet another rock.

“For the love of- quit throwing the stones, please! I’m afraid you’ll end up missing your target and maiming me.” Hanschen stood, brushing off his pants as he walked over to his friend.

Moritz sighed, throwing the rock in his hand back into the sand. He sat down, leaning back and looking up at the sky. Hanschen joined him, laying in the sand and watching the clouds roll by in one grey mass.

“We should probably get going soon.” He said simply. “If your father finds out I allow this on a regular basis, it will quite literally be my head.”

Moritz laughed. “I have my doubts that my father would behead you. It seems like an awful lot of effort.”

“Well, I’m not going to push it.” Hanschen said, getting up and going to grab Moritz’s jacket. Moritz made a noise of protest, but eventually stood up himself and went to grab his shoes and stockings.

“There’s sand in my boots.” Moritz complained, pulling his boots up to his knees and grimacing.

Hanschen laughed. “Well, I cannot say I have a lot of sympathy for you.”

Hanschen looked back at the winding path leading up the hill, the Stiefel Manor rested carefully on top of the cliff that overlooked the shore. The building itself was intimidating, the walls tall, bare, and an off-white color that seemed to be common amongst the nobility of Verona. The manor did however lack the usual embellishments that could be seen from the outside of most noble homes. If one were to go inside, they would see the walls lined with tapestries, the gardens lush and well cared for, and the interior walls painted with bright colors. But on the outside, nothing but stone walls.

Moritz appeared at his side, jacket slightly askew and his hair still messy but otherwise not hopelessly disheveled.

He did not seem pleased to go back, but it’s not like he had much of a choice.

“Well.” He said plainly. “Let’s get this over with.”

—-

Martha kept her ear pressed firmly to the door, trying to listen in on the conversation her parents were having with the man she had seen from her window. But all that could be heard was the muffled voices of various members of the household, the gruff voice of the older man, then… were those footsteps?

She jumped back from the door, nearly tripping over the hem of her nightgown as the door opened up. Her heart stopped for a second, but quickly warmed and started up again when she saw a familiar face.

“Have you any news, Ernst?” She asked her friend eagerly. Ernst just shushed her, closing the door quickly to make sure no one saw him.

“You’re not going to like what I have to say.” Ernst sighed, giving her a sympathetic stare. Martha felt her heart sink.

“So it’s true.” She sunk down on the bed. A humorless laugh left her lips. “I’m getting married.”

Ernst bit the inside of his cheek. “Well, yes and no. Your father is quite insistent on marrying you off, but he’s still not sure about which suitor to choose. Your mother suggested a gala tonight, and inviting all suitors who would be able to make it at such short notice. If you cannot choose by the end of the night, then he will choose himself.”

Martha held back the tears, warm as they threatened to spill forth. She could see it now, her on the arm of some old lord with his 12 children at her feet. God, she had known that her 17th birthday would bring her trouble but never once had she imagined this.

Ernst must have seen her clear distress, as his face softened and he sat beside her. “Listen, I have an idea for how to get you out of this. It’s not ideal but… it’s the best solution we have. When your father asks you if you have come to a decision, choose me.”

Martha was taken aback for a second, but the more she thought about it the more it made sense. Ernst was her second cousin, making him nobility as well as family. No dowry would have to be paid, but the bloodline wouldn’t appear to be sullied with such a union. 

“But they will expect heirs, any you’re…” She trailed off, realizing the danger in even speaking the words she could use to describe her cousin and friend. He averted his eyes downward.

“I’d rather do this than let you be forced into something with a man who wouldn’t care for you.” He said sincerely. “Don’t you worry your pretty little head about me, I’ll be fine.”

Martha opened her mouth to protest, but as she did the door to her bedroom opened once more. Her handmaid, Wendla, walked in with her graceful step. Upon seeing Ernst sitting on the bed, her smooth brow scrunched in frustration.

“Ernie, I swear your goal must be to get me in trouble!” She whispered in a scolding tone, her lips forming a pout. Ernst allowed himself to smile playfully. 

“Then I suppose it would do you well to do your job.” He teased her, making her scowl. “I was just on my way out.”

Ernst stood up, smoothing out his jacket and heading over to the door. He paused, looking back over his shoulder to Martha. “Please consider what I said?”

Martha gave a nod as he left, leaving her alone with Wendla. The other girl sighed. “I suppose he told you about what’s going on downstairs?”

Martha nodded as Wendla grabbed a dress from Martha’s bureau. She examined it, a dark green gown with a more fitted bodice but the sleeves and skirt hanging loose off of the body. She smiled at the dress before approaching Martha.

“Yes, he gave me all of the details he could without scaring me.” She said dryly. Wendla smiled.

“I’m sure he didn’t tell you how Melchior tried to speak on your behalf and give you at least another year.” Wendla’s voice was lofty as she mused on about Martha’s first cousin. Martha grimaced.

“Did he now?” What Wendla and the other girls in court who fawned over Melchior didn’t seem to realize is that in the event that Martha’s father dies and Martha has not had a son, then Melchior inherits the entire estate. His motives for buying Martha some time were more selfish than anything else.

Wendla helped Martha into the dress, still going on in her sweet voice. “He’s quite wonderful, is he not?”

“He is quite something, that we can agree on.” Martha huffed, straightening her back so Wendla could fasten the buttons that ran along her spine.

Once the dress was on and her hair tied into a braid that looped around the back of her head, Martha looked over to the door. Taking a deep breath, she began to walk towards it.

If she had to meet the man campaigning for her hand, then it was most likely better to just get it over with.

—-

“How did it go?” Hanschen asked as he saw Moritz walking down the corridor. Moritz looked exhausted, running his hands through his dark, curly hair. Hanschen could see the red marks on his knuckles, nasty welts that would almost definitely turn shades of black, blue, and green.

Moritz huffed. “It was Latin, how do you think it went?”

Otto, a boy from the kitchens who had been harassing Hanschen for the past hour, piped up. “Sounds to me like you could use a break.”

Hanschen noted the mischief in Otto’s voice as he leaned forward. He wrinkled his brow, recalling the conversation that the two had just been having. “Don’t.” He said simply.`

“Don’t what?” Otto’s voice was smug. He turned his attention back to Moritz. “I’m sure Moritz would love to know what we have been talking about?”

“What is it?” The young noble asked, leaning against the wall. Hanschen tried to open his mouth to protest, but Otto beat him to it.

“How willing would you be to go out tonight?” He asked. Moritz’s interest was piqued.

“Where exactly would we be going?” Moritz raised an eyebrow.

Hanschen rolled his eyes. “We are going absolutely nowhere.”

Otto ignored this statement, licking his lips. His voice turned into a whisper. “The Bessel estate.”

The Bessels and the Stiefels were the two oldest noble families in Verona. They had shared the land, the power, and most of the glory for centuries before any of them had even been a thought in God’s head… with that being said, they also shared a heated, age old rivalry that seemed older than time itself.

A member of the Lord Stiefel’s court walking into the Bessel Estate was an act of suicide.

Moritz shook his head. “Otto, you must have officially lost your-“

“Please, this may be our only chance to actually see what it looks like on the inside!” The boy begged, the excitement written on his face. Moritz shook his head.

“I won’t be able to take two steps into that place, I’ll be dead the moment I cross in!” He argued, clearly not willing to put his entire life on the line to fulfill Otto’s strange fantasy. Hanschen had to agree, in no way did this seem to be worth it.

Otto smiled. “But what if they didn’t know it was you?”

Hanschen blinked a few times, looking over to Moritz and then back to Otto. “How would they not know it was him?”

“Simple, he wears a mask.” Otto said simply. 

“Otto, What have you been drinking?” Hanschen asked, genuinely concerned for the boy’s health. Otto just laughed, reaching into a pocket sewn into the side of his tunic and fishing out a piece of parchment. He then handed the document to Moritz.

The grey-eyed boy looked from Otto, to Hanschen, and then down to the paper in his hand. There, in carefully written handwriting, were the names of a Lord and Lady Zirschnitz as well as their son. The document itself contained the details of a masquerade ball. He skimmed briefly over the paper before going to hand the document to Hanschen but then quickly stopping himself.

“How did you get this?” Moritz whisper-yelled, handing the paper back to him. 

Otto smiled. “While I was out today, I ran into a servant girl of theirs out trying to deliver invitations. She looked absolutely hopeless, and happened to come by none other than yours truly. I told her to fear not, I could help her decipher the names.”

Ah yes, Hanschen thought, How dare any of us forget that he can read. What a true hero.

“When I read what it said, I informed her that I just so happened to work for the Lord and Lady and would be happy to take the message to them.” He finished his retelling of the day’s adventure with a smirk.

Hanschen scoffed. “How noble of you. You scammed a poor servant girl.”

Otto flushed a bit in shame. “Well when you say it in such a way it sounds so devious.”

“Why would you not lead with the fact that it’s a masquerade ball?” Moritz asked.

“Well, I had hoped to try and appeal to my Lord’s more adventurous side.” Otto replied mockingly.

Moritz laughed. “Quite bold of you to assume I have an adventurous side.”

“Well…” Otto smiled once more. “You don’t really sound like a man who is about to say no.”

Hanschen looked over to his friend in shock. “Please tell me you aren’t going to agree?”

Moritz shrugged. “What could an hour do? No one is going to know who I am and neither of you would have been in any danger anyway. We’ll go, see what it looks like, and then leave satisfied that we can say we’ve done it.”

Otto laughed. “I honestly wasn’t expecting you to agree so easily.”

Hanschen sighed in disappointment, resigning himself to the undeniable stress that this hour out on the town would bring him. “I had hoped you wouldn’t.”

Still, he smiled. Moritz could use a break. Who knows, maybe this one act of rebellion will be just what the doctor ordered…

Assuming they all got out alive.

—-

The entire operation had been a lot easier to accomplish than the boys had originally assumed. At around 9:00 they had all gotten dressed and walked out of the servant’s door in the kitchens, exiting the grounds through the back. They then stopped by one of the few stands still open in the market and bought a plain black mask (which naturally, Moritz paid for) and threw them on. The trio arrived at the ball and were standing in the heat of the event by the early hour of 9:30.

Moritz hated to admit it, but he was a little disappointed. His first act of rebellion in his 17 years on this earth, and there had been nothing particularly interesting about it. No dodging the guards, no scaling the wall, nothing of the sort. They had just walked right through the enemy’s front door and leisurely strolled into their garden.

Almost as soon as the three boys had arrived, Otto had zipped off into the crowd, melting right in with the sea of masked faces. Hanschen and Moritz on the other hand had found an ivy covered wall just off to the side of the dance floor.

“Strange, isn’t it?” Hanschen asked, adjusting the sleeves of the red dress tunic Moritz had let him borrow. Neither boy had considered how the tunic might have ended up a bit too long on the blond. “To have a ball in the gardens?”

Moritz nodded in agreement. It was strange, but considering the sheer size of the guest count he couldn’t say he was too shocked. While you could have shoved this many people into a ballroom, it wouldn’t have left much room to breathe. In fact, Moritz wouldn’t be too surprised if the entire city had shown up to the festivity. “It does make you wonder what the occasion is, doesn’t it?”

“What do you mean ‘wonder’? You read the invitation, did you not?” Hanschen almost looked offended on the host’s behalf at the thought of Moritz not taking a closer look at the document.

Moritz shrugged. “In every bit of honesty, I skimmed it. Figured the only information I truly needed from it was the location and the time.”

Hanschen sighed at his friend’s carelessness, but dropped the subject. The two continued their rather dull conversation as the hour passed by. 

“I suppose I should go find Otto.” Hanschen sighed, going to push himself off of the wall. Moritz held his arm out.

“Please, allow me. I feel as though if I lean against this wall for too much longer then I may become a part of it.” Moritz smiled. He took a step from the wall, walking out into the dance floor to look for his friend…

That’s when he saw her.

She was dancing with an older man, wearing a gold painted mask, a flowing green dress, and a distasteful scowl directed towards her partner. She was immediately… everything that encompassed the human experience all at once. The beauty of her limbs as they moved through the air, the hate in her brown eyes, the pride in her shoulders.

It was the most passion he had ever felt in his short life. He felt like he was standing in the middle of a work of art, a single word in a long sonnet that God wrote for her eyes alone. He was witnessing something that was only reserved for the epic plays of times that had already passed.

She looked over to him, not seeming pleased as she finished her dance with the older man. The music faded and suddenly Moritz remembered where he was. She turned to him, an eyebrow raised impatiently.

Hanschen’s voice seemed to come out of nowhere, as did his hand that he had placed firmly on his shoulder. “Ask her to dance, you fool.”

Moritz turned in surprise. “Are you alright if I do that?”

“I’ll be fine,” Hanschen smiled. “Besides, Otto is most certainly not willing to leave just yet. What difference will one song truly be?”

Moritz smiled, giving a quick thank you as he made his way to the dance floor. The girl stood, waiting for him and still looking annoyed (though one could not deny the curiosity he was showing as she examined Moritz).

He held his hand out to her shyly. “Um… may I have this dance?”

She did not seem impressed as she delicately places her hand in his, her dark skin seeming to have an even warmer glow when she placed it against Moritz’s cool, pale hue. He too her hand gratefully and led her to the center of the floor.

“So um… it’s a lovely night, isn’t it?” Moritz stuttered along, bashfully placing his hand on her waist. She seemed to have no qualms on the matter, but it was obvious that he did not have the same effect on her as she did him.

“You really aren’t the most charming character, are you?” She asked, rolling her pretty brown eyes.

Moritz felt the tips of his ears grow warm. He laughed awkwardly. “No, in all honesty I’m not.”

She blinked for a few seconds, then laughed a little. “Well, at least you are honest.”

“I suppose it would be better if you led the conversation.” He said with sincerity, gaining a little more confidence and beginning to properly lead their dance. 

She laughed again, this one sounding much more sincere. “Well, I assume you could start by telling me your name?”

“Moritz.” He said, listening as the music began to pick up pace.

“Are you going to give a surname to go with that, Moritz?” She asked. Moritz had to admit, he loved the way she said his name. Each syllable given equal time, not rushed through as if she didn’t have the time for it. The slight hint of some type of accent that really only shone through when she said the “o”. 

He chuckled nervously. “With your permission, I would prefer not to.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Permission granted, but I must admit that it makes me even more curious. May I ask why?”

“Well, it seems people put an awful lot on surnames. Let’s not let it speak for me.” He said simply. “Now I believe it’s your turn?”

She furrowed her eyebrows. “Pardon?”

Moritz smiled. “Your name, if it so pleases you that is?”

She nodded, her eyes never leaving his. “Martha… and I will follow suit and leave my surname out as well.”

Martha. In Arabic it means “lady”. The name fit Martha’s very regal demeanor, the way she spoke, the way she held her head. Everything about her was so confident and radiant.

She gave a soft smile. “I can practically see the wheels in your head turning. What are you thinking about?”

“Nothing, just… your name fits you very well.” He responded softly.

Martha looked up at him, confused. “What do you mean?”

“Well, your name in Arabic means lady. I just think it’s a nice fit for you.” He felt his face turning red as she looked him directly in the eye and listened thoughtfully to his answer.

She smiled. “And what does Moritz mean, if I may ask?”

Moritz chuckled. “Dark skinned.” 

Martha seemed to find this amusing as she let out a small laugh and looked down to where the two’s hands here locked together. “I dare say your name doesn’t really fit you.”

“I dare say you are right.” Moritz joked. 

Martha laughed again, the sound warm and making Moritz’s heart flutter. “And to think, at the beginning of our conversation you said you weren’t charming.”

“Well,” Moritz flushed. “I still would not go as far as saying I am charming.”

Martha nodded. “I suppose you’re right. Soulful is more of the word I’d use to describe you.”

He wanted to ask what she meant by that, but as he opened his mouth he noticed the orchestra die down. Partners separated as the song ended, moving on to the next person.

“I suppose I should move aside so you can take another dance partner.” He said, humbly stepping off to the side. He went to turn around and join Hanschen at the edge of the dance floor, but was shocked when he felt someone grab hold of his hand.

“Wait!” Martha called. Quickly realizing what she was doing, she let go of his hand and continued. “I’m sure it would do no one would be harmed if we continued on for just one more song.”

Moritz almost forgot how to breathe. She wanted to keep dancing? With him? He silently took her hand, nodding as she led him back to the center of the dance floor.

Surely heaven must feel like this!

—-

Hanschen had to admit, when he had suggested that Moritz go ask the pretty girl in the green to dance he had really only meant for one or two songs and then they could get going. He didn’t think he’d be standing there for at least another hour, watching his friend dance his little heart away.

But of course, wasn’t going to stop him. Instead, he went back to his spot on the wall and continued to slowly grow into it and keep an eye on Moritz. He seemed to be enjoying his current company, smiling and laughing as the two glided across the dance floor.

He had seen Otto a few times in passing, but only long enough for him to wave in his direction and continue on with the festivities.

For the good part of the night, Hanschen had been standing off to the side people watching. Call it a mix of anxiety and curiosity, but Hanschen had spent far too much time scanning the other partygoers.

Specifically, he had noticed one man. He was older, dressed extravagantly, but that wasn’t what caught Hanschen’s attention. It was more the fact that he had been staring directly at Moritz, not with malice as Hanschen had feared but just pure intrigue.

He had only been vaguely aware of the man who had been leaning against the wall beside him, but figured that if he wanted to know more about the older man then he should give social interaction a try. He turned his head, ready to ask the stranger a casual question…

Until he saw who he was addressing.

The “man” he had begun to address was little more than an adolescent, clean faced, bright eyed, and looking to be around his own age. His eyes were a striking brown, making Hanschen think of home for some reason he couldn’t quite pin. It was also worth mentioning that the boy was very attractive in every sense of the word, which made Hanschen’s chest tighten in a strange way.

The stranger smiled, a soft and sweet smile. “May I assist you with something?”

Hanschen regained the ability to speak in about 30 seconds, finally opening his mouth. “Um… it’s a lovely night.”

“Yeah, it is.” The boy laughed. He turned to look directly into Hanschen’s eyes. “I’m Ernst.”

“Hanschen.” He smiled at Ernst, but then remembered the reason he had turned to face him in the first place. “Would you by any chance happen to be able to tell me the name of the older gentleman standing by the stairs?”

Ernst looked over to the man, knit his brow, and then turned back to Hanschen. “I assume this means you haven’t met our host? That is Lord Bessel.”

Hanschen felt his heart stop. He glanced over to Moritz again, who was still lost in his own little world. Ernst seemed to detect his panic.

“Why do you ask?” He questioned. 

“I just noticed him looking at my friend… do you happen to know why that could be?” Hanschen was growing more and more nervous as he waited for the answer.

Ernst smiled in his gentle manner. “Well, the young lady your friend is dancing with is his daughter. I can understand why he might be curious.”

Hanschen suddenly regretted everything he had said and done in the past two hours. He was barely able to give Ernst a hasty goodbye before taking off to the dance floor. The song was just ending, the perfect time to tear Moritz away and leave before anyone even noticed they had been there.

“Moritz, we need to leave!” He tried to communicate the urgency of the situation without alerting Moritz’s dance partner. His friend turned to face him, looking disappointed.

“Right away?” He asked, his voice holding the same tone as a child’s when he runs to his mother for comfort.

Hanschen wanted to strike him for not realizing how his life was on the line as the two of them spoke. “Yes, immediately!”

The girl he had been dancing with, silent until now, finally spoke up. “Will I be able to see you again?”

Hanschen didn’t let him answer that question. Being near this girl was triggering every fight or flight reflex in his body. “Moritz! Now!”

The boy didn’t budge, but he seemed to begin to understand the urgency in Hanschen’s voice. He put a hand up to his face…

Hanschen wasn’t sure what had happened after that. He didn’t know if the girl tore the mask off, if it had been Moritz himself who removed it, or if a night of dancing had simply loosened the tie in the back of his head. But either way, the mask hit the floor.

Moritz was the only son of one of the most influential families in Verona. Every noble man, Lord Bessel included, knew his face.

Moritz didn’t seem to realize the gravity of the situation yet. Instead, his eyes fixed themselves on the girl in front of him. She had a mix of shock, hurt, and intrigue. She knew who he was now… and they both have realized that they didn’t stand a chance.

Hanschen wanted to let him stand there, to be able to let everything sink in and leave on his own terms. But he couldn’t do that. Lord Bessel was already calling the guards…

They had to go now.


	2. Orpheus

The escape from the Bessel manor had not been nearly so easy as the entrance. Moritz and Hanschen tore out of the garden, hearing the guards following suit. The twists and turns of the courtyard suddenly felt so much more terrifying when they were being chased down by men who would gladly strike them dead.

“What way shall we go?” Hanschen asked as the two came to an intersection. Moritz had seemed to come out of a daze. He looked left and right, then back to Hanschen.

“Halt!” One of the men yelled, startling the two boys. In their panic, Hanschen and Mortiz tore off in separate directions. The men began to gain on them as Hanschen turned to look for his friend, but found him on the other side of the gap in the walls.

“Moritz!” He called, peering around the corner to see how close the guards were. He pursed his lips, ready to sprint across the gap and join him. But there was no time, if Hanschen ran now then he would surely be caught. 

Moritz gestured for him to stop. “I will meet you at home! They only look to find me, go seek out Otto and leave immediately!”

“But-!” Hanschen began, but was cut off again.

“See it as an order from your Lord!” He then turned, sprinting off into the night. Hanschen did not seem pleased by this, but he did as he was told and ran off in the opposite direction.

Just as Moritz suspected, the guards saw Hanschen as a small prize. Instead, they took off after Moritz, calling for him to stop and surrender to them. Moritz thanked god for the darkness that acted as a disguise as he ran farther than he ever thought his legs could carry him.

He found an opening in the hedge wall as he went to lean and catch his breath. He had given himself quite the lead, but could feel his lungs burn as he ran. He looked to the opening, then looked back over his shoulder. In the distance, he could see them but he was positive they could not see him. Without hesitating any longer, he ducked into the opening, squeezed his eyes shut, and listened as the guards shuffled past.

He dared not to move, afraid that even the slightest noise would tempt the guards to turn back around. Moritz couldn’t tell you exactly how long he stayed there, huddled up in the brush with his eyes shut tight. An hour. Two hours, maybe?

He opened his eyes after a long while, finally feeling like he was in the clear. His new found relief encouraged him to open his eyes, finally taking in his surroundings. He was in another garden, though this one was smaller and enclosed entirely by hedges and Ivy covered walls. Roses and violets grew on their perfectly manicured bushes, with a stone walkway connecting them all. Overlooking it all was a large stone balcony, the ivy lacing up like a ladder along the worn walls.

Moritz figured he should go, leave before he loses the chance to make it out alive. As he went to turn, he heard the door to the balcony open. Panic rushed through him again, and he ducked back into the shadows. 

He watched as the door creaked open, and out stepped Martha. She was no longer wearing her flowing green dress, instead trading it for an off-white nightgown that fell down to her ankles. Her feet were bare, and her dark hair hung in two braids that fell past her shoulders. She sighed, leaning forward on the edge of the balcony and resting her cheek in the palm of her hand. She looked out into nothing in particular, clearly thinking.

Moritz felt his mouth go dry as he gazed up at her, then looked down. He felt guilty for leaving her in such a rush, but he knew that stepping out wouldn’t do either of them any good. She probably didn’t want to see him.

He went to quietly sneak back through the bushes, turning slowly so that he wouldn’t be seen against the darkness of the night. Just as he went to leave, his foot caught on the roots of the tree he had been using to shield himself and he went down, arms thrashing and making as much noise as possible.

Martha’s head snapped up, looking directly in his direction but clearly not seeing him. “Who’s there?” She called out.

Moritz stayed silent, even going as far as to throw his hands over his mouth to not allow any words to escape. He had hoped that she would go back inside, dismiss any noise she heard as just the wind or some animal. However, reality wasn’t so kind.

“Show yourself before I call the guards!” She yelled, moving towards the door.

Well shit. Moritz really didn’t want to deal with those guards again and decided that the only option for him was to show himself. He stepped out into the light hesitantly, looking down in shame.

Martha did not seem angry, much to Moritz’s surprise. Rather, she seemed terrified. “What are you doing here? If my father sees you, he’ll-“

“I know, I was trying to escape but then I lost my companion and I found this gap in the hedges… “ Mortiz cut himself off, realizing he was rambling. “And I wanted to apologize.”

Martha frowned. “For what?”

Moritz hesitated, not sure how to answer that question. In all reality, he was not sorry that he danced with her. It had been one of the few moments in his life where he had actually felt alive, but how could he possibly tell her that? 

“I’m sorry about tonight… I did not want to cause any trouble for you or your family. Had I known who you were, I never would have…” He wasn’t sure how to end that sentence. Wasted her time? That seemed to be the only way he knew how to phrase it, but something in his head held the words back from his tongue. He didn’t want to say them, because saying them meant she would respond, and responding meant she would either confirm or deny. There was a part of him that didn’t want to know.

Martha looked hurt. “Oh… I see.” She pursed her lips. “Then please… don’t let me keep you.”

She turned to go, taking graceful steps towards the door with her hand trailing across the top of the railing. Moritz’s brain screamed at him to stop her, to call out to her and tell her the actual truth.

“W-wait!” Against his better judgement, he called to her. Martha turned her head, looking back to him over her shoulder. Her eyes were softer than they had been hours before, when she first cast him an intrigued but still distant glare. Moritz felt his heart flutter. “I lied.”

She furrowed her brow, taking a step forward. “Whatever do you mean?”

Moritz took a deep breath. No matter if she loved him or hated him, there was the all too real possibility that this would be the last time he could look her in the eye and tell her the truth. “When I said I would have never would have come to you if I knew who you were. The truth is, even now if you gave me the choice again I would still go to you. I would go to you a thousand times before I would ever walk away.”

She just stared at him for a second, then walked back to the very edge of the balcony. Moritz felt himself draw closer, as if she were the center of his whole universe. 

“Tell me… do you think it foolish to fall in love with someone you have only known for a single night?” She asked, her voice small as if she feared his answer.

Moritz smiled. “If it is, then I suppose I am a fool.”

Martha gave a playful smile. “Well, I suppose that won’t do.”

“Whatever do you mean?” Moritz asked, quite thoroughly confused. Martha’s smile turned coy.

“Moritz, I’ve met a lot of fools in my time here on this earth. Fools talk from their treasuries instead of their hearts, fools put their hands wherever they please…” She shuddered a little, Her smile falling. “Fools will hurt you. You are the perfect example of what a fool is not.”

Moritz laughed. “I’m far from a genius.”

Martha looked down at him, her eyes soft and brown and dewy. “I don’t need you to be. The way you are now is more than enough.”

Moritz could physically feel his heart as it skipped a beat. Martha, looking down at him from the balcony with her brown skin glowing under the pale moonlight and making every silver star in the sky look dull by comparison. He felt humbled standing in her presence just as he was. “Then we don’t have to call it love.”

“What shall we call it then?” Martha laughed.

Moritz shrugged, taking another step towards her. “That seems to be the beauty of it. It’s ours and ours alone. We can call it whatever we want.”

Martha bit at her lip playfully, leaning over the side so far that her entire torso was practically hanging off the ledge. “Sounds too good to be true. Do you use this line on a lot of young ladies?”

“I’m afraid you might be the only one to stick around long enough to hear it.” Moritz leaned against the Ivy covered wall that led up to the balcony, a little voice in the back of his mind urging him to try and climb up the wall just to get closer.

His statement seemed to amuse Martha. “It is a good thing too, I don’t know what I would have done if someone else fell for you before I even got the chance.”

Everything about that sentence, from the way she said it to the message contained, made Moritz feel warm. He put his hand on the thick vines creeping up the wall, then looked back up to Martha. “May I?”

She looked apprehensive, darting her eyes between him and the ivy he was ready to use as a ladder. “I would love to have you closer… but please be careful.”

Moritz lit up, turning quickly to find a foothold and pulling himself up. He only had to climb a short distance to reach the balcony, pulling himself up one last time and turning to rest his elbows on the railing.

“Alright, my lady, I am h-“ he began, but was cut off by something pressing against his lips. Or rather, someone. Martha’s lips, to be very specific.

Moritz could feel the summer sun shine on him, despite the fact that the only natural light shining on them was the jealous moon and her army of millions of dull stars. Warmth spread from his lips to his fingertips to the heart that he didn’t even know was cold until that moment. His lips seemed to move on their own accord, as did his hands that reached up to cup her face. The world felt distant and the air around him felt lighter.

He wanted to stay there forever.

It felt like decades later when Martha finally pulled back, Moritz leaning forward to follow until the message in his brain finally came through a few seconds late. The warmth lingered for only a few seconds, but soon the cold of the night wrapped him up in her embrace. Only his heart remained, pumping as though it had just not discovered a reason to keep going. 

Moritz didn’t think before he spoke, he just let the words fall from his mouth as if it was the only logical thing to do. “Did my heart love til now? Forswear the sight, for I ne'er saw true beauty til this night.”

Martha blinked, and for a second Moritz thought he had over stepped some invisible line. He considered all of the different ways he could apologize to her. Then, without warning, her voice broke through the silence. “That was beautiful… who wrote that?”

“Um… me?” Moritz’s face turned an unflattering shade of red. She nodded, her lips parted delicately. Then, ever so slowly, the corners of her mouth turned up.

“You are truly a modern Orpheus, my love.” Her voice was sinfully smooth, in a way that God should be banned from making the voice of a mere human sound like. In that moment, Moritz was convinced the girl in front of him had to be some other worldly being. Only God knew what she saw in him to use such a term to describe someone so plain.

“You seem to think of me as something more than I am.” He laughed, his shoulders hunching just a bit.

Martha let out a soft exhale of breath from her nose. “Maybe so… or maybe you just don’t know how wonderful you really are.”

Moritz didn’t know what to say to that. Then he realized he didn’t need to say anything at all. The two leaned forward, lips trembling at the thought of meeting once more, inching closer until…

“My Lady?” A soft voice muffled by the door startled the two causing them to pull back immediately. Moritz lost is balance, falling from his spot leaning against the railing and only stopping himself from breaking a bone by grabbing at the stone platform at Martha’s feet. Martha turned abruptly, adjusting her skirt so that whoever was about to walk through the door could not see the top of Moritz’s head.

“Out here, Wendla!” She called, her voice shaky. Moritz heard the door open and tried to make himself smaller, as if holding his head any lower would make him blend in with the ivy around him.

“Are you alright? I thought I heard something crash…” a soft, feminine voice said, her tone laced with concern and curiosity. 

Martha cleared her throat. “I’m fine just… getting some air. I’ll be inside in just a few minutes.”

There was a pause, and for a moment Moritz held his breath as if too forceful of an exhale would alert the girl to his presence. “Alright, just let me know when you are ready.”

A few seconds later, he could hear the door close once more. Martha knelt down, her nose only a few inches away from his. “Tomorrow, send someone to the market with a letter. I’ll do the same.”

Moritz blinked a few times. “Wait… what? Why?”

“The letter is to you, silly! Write a letter but sign a different name at the end. That way, if someone finds it then it can’t be pinned to you.” She bit at her bottom lip. “I just… I don’t want this to end. Not when it’s hardly begun.”

Moritz was stunned. She wanted to see him again. She wanted to see him in general. She actually wanted him! “Then I will.”

He went to leave, hoping that going quickly would make it less painful. He was startled when she grabbed his sleeve without warning. “Wait!”

Martha pressed something into his hand, her fingertips lingering on his palm before she pulled them back. There in his hand was the ornate cross that he hadn’t even noticed had been gracing her neck just a few moments ago (his attention had been on other things). He looked back up at her, and a nervous smile tugged at the ends of her perfect lips. The message was clear.

So you don’t forget me.

Martha reached her hand out to caress his cheek. “You need to go now. Don’t turn back, Orpheus.”

She took her hand away, and Moritz felt his cheek grow cold at the loss of her touch. He climbed back down hesitantly, quickly making his way across the garden and hiding in the shadows.

She watched him move, her soul looking heavy even from far away. He turned back, smiling at her and hoping she could see in the dark. She smiled back.

“Martha!” The girl from before called. Martha snapped her head to the door.

“By and by, I come!” She called. She opened the door, stopping in the doorway and turning to look over her shoulder. Then, just like that, she was gone.

Moritz stole one more longing glance at the balcony before disappearing back into the darkness, clutching the necklace to his heart.

There was no denying he was foolish now, for as he made his escape his mind was clouded and his soul was caught in a whirlwind of emotions. 

He was a fool who was finally alive. And he could think of nothing better to be in this world than just that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry updates on everything have been super scarce, I’ve had a ton of personal and health stuff going on. Hope you enjoyed it anyway!


	3. The King and The Lionheart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which both Moritz and Ernst elevate Hanschen’s blood pressure but like,,, differently

Hanschen had been pacing around Moritz’s chambers for the better part of three hours, occasionally looking up from his feet to glance at the window, door, or any other area he could deem as a form of entrance. Nothing.

He hated to admit it, but his nerves were starting to eat at him. After escaping the Bessel Manor, he loitered outside of the back gate for a while. When that didn’t work, he moved to a shadowy spot near the front. After that, he migrated to both the left and right. Still, there had been no sign of his friend.

He went home, hoping that once he got there his friend would be safely tucked into his bed. Of course, reality wasn’t so kind.

Suddenly the door opened and Hanschen’s heart stopped beating for a second. He snapped his head up, breathing a sigh of relief as Moritz walked into the room seemingly unharmed. 

“Where in God’s name where you?” Hanschen was shaking, holding himself back from either strangling or hugging Moritz. His friend just gave him an aloof smile, taking his coat off and throwing it onto the back of the chair next to his door.

“I got caught up, I suppose…” He still held that stupid grin on his face, which was starting to give Hanschen this uncontrolable urge to hit him.

“You got caught up? Is that truly all you have to say to me?” Hanschen was fuming. “Can you please take me seriously this once! I thought you were-”

He cut himself off. He didn’t want to say it. Admitting what he had been thinking made it feel all too real. Tears started to well up in the corner of his eyes, forcing him to look away.

By the time he had glanced back, Moritz was no longer smiling. Instead, he was standing in front of him, his face etched with worry. His hand was slightly raised as if he wasn’t sure if he should reach out to his friend or back away.

Hanschen blinked the tears away. “So… what happened after we parted?”

A red blush crept up Moritz’s neck. “Well, I uh…” He muttered something incoherently.

“Beg your pardon?” Hanschen knew mumbling was never a good sign.

Moritz took a deep breath. Once he seemed to have regained his confidence, he spoke again. “I was with Lord Bessel’s daughter.”

Now, Hanschen had always been aware that Moritz was his own special brand of idiot. But this was truly his pique level of idiocy. 

“You did wh-” Hanschen involuntarily raised his voice, causing Moritz to shush him frantically before he could wake the whole manor.

“I know, I know! It was stupid, but I promise I had a very good reason!” Moritz threw his arms up defensively. Hanschen let out a long, exasperated sigh.

“Alright, I shall humor you. What was your ‘good reason’?” He could not help the bitter tone in his voice as he ended that sentence.

Moritz’s dopey grin tugged once again at the corners of his lips, threatening to make a reappearance. “I think I may be in love with her, Hanschen…”

Hanschen had wanted to scream, to tell Moritz that his “good reason” was more of a delusion than anything. But at the same time, his friend looked happy. Despite his anger, Hanschen let him relish in this moment for a little longer. After all, he would probably never get to see this girl again.

Moritz fished something out of his breast pocket, cupping it in his hand and absent mindedly running his thumb over it. Hanschen could see the silver glint of a chain, even in the spare candle light.

“Hanschen… I know I ask a lot from you,” Moritz looked up at him, his grey eyes sincere. “But if you help me with this I swear to make it up to you one day ten-fold.”

Hanschen held his breath in anticipation, ready to deny whatever came out of his mouth next. He wanted to help him, he really did.

But Moritz’s life wasn’t worth wasting on an unfortunate side effect of his “growing pains”.

“What do you want me to do?” He kept his voice gentle. The night had been rough for both of them, even though only one of them could recognize this at the moment.

Moritz took a folded up parchment out of his pocket, holding it like a treasure. “I… I wrote this on my way home. I just had so much left to say, but I couldn't find the words until after I was gone.”

Hanschen watched as Moritz pursed his lips then handed the document to him with the same gentleness that one would use to pass a baby. Hanschen mirrored his care, taking the letter in between his palm and his thumb.

“Tomorrow, take this into the market. She is sending someone as well with a note of her own. You may wear my jacket with the family crest on it so that they will know who you are easily.” He explained, scanning Hanschen’s face for any sign of a yes or no.

“... Moritz, I don’t think this is safe.” Hanschen said the words carefully, moving the letter in his hand back in Moritz’s direction.

“Hanschen, I assure you that you will be safe. I-” Moritz began.

“By God, Moritz! I do not speak of my safety, I speak of yours!” Hanschen allowed his voice to raise again, but promptly lowered it. “This is suicidal! If your father finds out… if her father-”

“It is just this once!” Moritz assured him. “Please? All I need is this one letter… just to prove it wasn’t all a dream.”

Hanschen wanted to say no. He so very desperately wanted to tell him no, but the request was so simple in theory. He nodded, placing the letter in his own pocket and feeling the knot in his stomach grow. 

This would not be good. He could feel it in his core, something was going to go wrong.

“Alright…” He whispered. “Just this once.”

\---

He stood beside the produce stand, pretending to examine an apple as his mind raced. Moritz’s jacket was wrapped around him, far too hot and itchy for the unbearable summer heat. Hanschen reached up and tugged at the collar, wondering how Moritz could handle this.

He looked up, glancing around the sea of people. He wasn’t particularly sure who he was looking for. In all honesty, he was hoping that whoever he was supposed to meet up with would be able to track him down instead of vice-versa.

A much larger part of him just hoped that this other man would not show. Then he could go back home saying he at least tried. They could move past this, and last night would be a distant memory to reminisce about thirty years from now. Just some beautiful, distant memory.

He was ready to go home when he felt a tap on his shoulder. Hanschen let out a huff. There goes that whole “moving on” idea.

He turned on his heels, not sure who he is expecting to be standing behind him. Maybe a young serving girl. Maybe a stable boy. Maybe an old butler.

No matter who it was, the end result stayed the same.

He turned, his expression already unamused before he was even able to face the person trying to get his attention…

The moment he saw those brown eyes, he remembered the ivy wall.

Home.

And a name.

“... Ernst.” He said simply, his voice only cracking a little bit at the very end.

The young man before him unreadable, but not in a way that was guarded. His emotions were written clear across his face, the problem was that it was an emotion that Hanschen had no idea how to decipher. Some mix of confusion, fear, and a bit that almost seemed pleased with the turn of events. The different aspects of the face the youth was making did not fit together well, like three pieces from entirely different puzzles.

“Hanschen…” He said softly, clearing his throat afterward. “It is good to see you again. I’m kind of surprised you remember me from our brief encounter at the-” Ernst’s eyes trailed down to the crest on Hanschen’s breast, and suddenly realized that any mention of the party may be a bit too dangerous. Then again, anyone seeing them talk with one another was dangerous enough. “When we last met. I am truly sorry for how that ended.”

“It is fine. No harm done.” He gave a vague gesture to his torso, notably lacking in stab wounds.

Ernst swallowed hard. “Regardless… I feel as though I am responsible for last night.”

Hanschen couldn’t quite wrap his head around why Ernst would blame himself but he nodded along anyway. “So… I understand that you have something for me?”

Ernst looked confused by the sudden change in topic. His eyes drifted to the paper in his own hands and suddenly the clarity was written on his face. “Ah, y-yes!”

He handed the letter to Hanschen in a very non-discreet fashion, which he responded to by taking it from him carefully. Their fingers brushed against each other, and for a moment Hanschen’s brain was filled with new thoughts.

Dangerous thoughts.

He moved his hand quickly, as if Ernst’s touch had burned him. Quickly, Hanschen thrust Moritz’s letter into the other boy’s hand. 

“Um… thank you. Have a good day.” Hanschen gave a quick nod, pushing past Ernst and heading straight for the manor.

He looked down at the letter, his mind still spinning.

Warm.

Home.

Ernst.

Maybe this doesn’t need to be a one time thing after all…

After all, what is the worst that could happen?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Im sorry this one is so much shorter than previous chapters, but the more loaded chapters are literally already being written.


	4. Check Yes, Juliet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oh shit, a rat!

Martha gazed down at the envelope in her hand, observing how her name was written on the front in messy yet precise penmanship. She turned it in her hand, her fingertips grazing the seal but not daring to open it yet. Insteady, she tucked it into the folds of her dress so that it would be concealed from any prying eyes.

“Do you plan on opening it?” Ernst whispered, a wide smile on his face. Martha giggled, turning her attention to a blue butterfly that had perched himself on a rose nearby.

The garden was always pleasant this time of year, with the more mild summer days providing a nice breeze that rustled the flowering bushes just right. Martha smiled, turning back to Ernst.

“I think I shall open it somewhere more private.” She said quietly. Ernst gave an approving nod, leaning back on the bench that the two were seated on to look up at the sky. 

“It’s such a peaceful day…” He mused. “It was so unbearably hot this morning, I feared it would stay that way!”

“From what I understand, the market is always hot.” Martha pointed out. “I can only assume it is because of all the people crowded into one place.”

The best Martha could do was assume. She had never actually been to the market.

The two sat in comfortable silence for a little longer, watching the clouds roll by and create various shapes as they went.

The letter hidden in the folds of Martha’s gown was starting to burn a hole in her soul. The curiosity and pure desperation were almost enough to make her bolt into her chambers, lock the door, and read what Moritz has to say even if it is absolute nonsense. 

But there was also a considerable amount of fear. What if the letter was just him coming to his senses, realizing that this love was hopeless. They could never truly be together in any socially acceptable way, so what really was the point? That question was enough to keep her glued to her seat.

“It is getting a bit warm…” Ernst suggested gently. “Would you like to go inside, M’lady?”

Martha almost laughed at the way he addressed her so formally, but then she remembered that to the rest of the world this man was her betrothed. Gone where their days of public casual banter, now they had to be the perfect image of the future Lord and Lady of the house.

Martha nodded. “Yes, I would like that very much.”

Ernst stood, holding his arm out to help Martha stand as well. She tried to take his arm with some form of poise, but she was having trouble holding back a laugh.

“What?” Ernst asked, watching Martha suppress a small chuckle. “Whatever is so funny?”

“I just cannot take you seriously like this.” She said. “You seem so stiff.”

He relaxed his shoulders, letting out a laugh. “Shut up! C’mon, let’s go in.”

She took his arm with a dramatic flick of her wrist, allowing him to lead her inside. The two parted ways at the grand staircase, Ernst going one way and Martha going the other. She tried to hide her excitement as she raced up the stairs, walking down the halls as fast as her legs could carry her without getting scolded and heading straight for her chambers.

Once the door was firmly closed, Martha pulled the letter from the folds of her dress once more. Her fingertips floated across the smooth paper, nervous to find out what was inside it. She turned it over in her hands, her fingers prying off the wax seal and…

“There you are!” Martha nearly jumped out of her skin when she saw Wendla standing beside her bed, putting down the pillow she had been fluffing and rushing up to her friend. “I have been looking for you all morning, where were you?”

Martha blushed, burying the letter back into the loose cloth of her gown. “Oh, I was just out in the garden… with Ernst…”

Wendla’s face lit up in delight. “Oh, this is all so perfect! You two are going to be a perfect couple, I-” She looked down to Marhta’s hand, which was not very subtly hidden in between pale blue fabric. “What do you have there?”

Martha tried to think up some lie to tell that would lose Wendla’s interest, but the other girl’s lively hazel eyes could see the darkened shade of her cheeks and would clearly not believe it. Sighing, Martha pulled the letter into the light, watching Wendla scoop it up with a gentle but eager hand. She beamed as she turned the paper in her hand a few times.

Slowly, her face fell into a look of longing, She ran her delicate hands over the letter, her shoulders slumping. Martha suddenly realized how cruel it was to have let her take it from her. It was something that she would never get to have herself.

“Will you read it to me?” Wendla seemed to ask the question unconsciously, the words just falling from her mouth. Once she realized what she had said, she began stumbling over her words and rushing to apologize. “Forgive me, I did not mean- I shouldn’t have-!”

Martha gave her a sympathetic smile, taking the letter from her hands. “Yes, I will.” She said, watching her friend light up and take a seat on the bed.

Martha did not take her time opening up the letter, desperate to hear what Moritz had to say to her. She looked up at Wendla, who had her head resting in her hands like a child waiting for a story. She began to read.

“‘Dearest Martha,  
I apologize for the length of this letter. It is much shorter than I would have liked it to be. However, it seems that the very thought of you renders me entirely speechless. 

“‘After we parted last night, I was reeling. The time we had shared, however short, had felt magical. I was not even sure if it was real until I woke this morning with your rosary still pressed into my palm. I wish I could write you a sonnet, but I’m afraid that you may have taken not only my heart, but the very last of my mind as well.

Until next time, I am most adoringly and informally yours.’”

Martha laughed at the missing name at the bottom of the page as well as the humorous ending note. She looked up to Wendla, who was smiling broadly.

“He really loves you.” She sighed, resting her cheek on her hand.

Martha blinked a few times before looking back down at the letter. She smiled. “I suppose he does…”

\---

Ernst lived by a very short list of general rules. Be kind, Do the right thing, help those in need, and do not have prolonged conversations with Melchior.

Today, it seemed as if he was going to be forced to break that last rule.

“Ernst!” The other youth called out casually. Ernst stopped where he stood, giving the door in front of him a very annoyed look. Nothing good ever came from Melchior seeking him out.

He turned to face his cousin, not bothering to follow his first rule too closely either. Melchior stood in his usual careless glory. His jacket hanging from his forearm and the top of his crisp undershirt unlaced. He had a smug smile strategically placed on his face.

“Melchior.” Ernst greeted simply. “How do you do?”

Melchior nodded. “I just thought I should congratulate you on your engagement. Especially since it comes with such a hefty promotion.”

Ernst noted the edge of danger in Melchior’s voice. He puffed his chest.

“Thank you.” He held back the words he actually wanted to say. “I assure you, the position that comes with such an arrangement means nothing. I only proposed because-”

“-Yes, because you love her so much.” Melchior interrupted. “Trust me, I’ve heard about your plea to our Lordship. It’s all the ladies in court feel any need to talk about.”

Melchior reached out to pluck a rose right off of the bush, scaring the butterfly that perched on the petals. “It’s an impressive act, I must admit.”

“Whatever do you mean?” Ernst asked, watching Melchior inspect the flower in his hand. 

“I just find it strange that our Lord decided quite suddenly that his daughter, who if I may be frank is nearing spinster age, needed to get married this very instant. Do you happen to know why that is?” Melchior looked back up a him. His voice was still as casual as ever, but Ernst knew what he was implying.

Ernst had heard the story many times when they were younger. Every lord needed a designated heir, and Lord Bessel had quite a sad stock to pick from.

He had only two legitimate children in the family; His own daughter Martha and his cousin’s son Ernst. The trouble came from the fact that Martha was a girl, and therefore legally couldn’t inherit any property without being married.

As for Ernst, he was a very sickly child. He fell ill with a fever almost once every month, and the duration of his sickness was getting longer each time. By the time he was five, the entire manor had accepted that he would most likely not make it to adulthood.

Then there was His sister’s illegitimate child. Healthy, intelligent, and very much male. 

Melchior.

He was written in as the soul heir within a week, despite being a bastard. He was the closest blood relative to Lord Bessel, so no one even batted an eye.

But recently, Melchior’s ambitions had gone unchecked. He spoke openly about what he plans to do with the grounds, with the staff, with the money. And all with Lord Bessel still alive and well. The older man responded accordingly, by making an attempt to marry off his daughter and all but writing him off completely.

“I’m sad to say that I do not know.” Ernst lied. “Perhaps it isn’t for us to know.”

Melchior pursed his lips. “This truly is a remarkable act you and Martha have. But I would like to remind you that you are in quite the delicate situation.”

Ernst narrowed his eyes. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.”

“You know…” Melchior mused, turning the rose in his hand. “I do love the ‘childhood lovers’ approach you chose to go with, but you seem to have not accounted for a few things.”

“And what would those be?” Ernst clenched his jaw.

Melchior looked up with a sly smile. “Serving boys talk, Ernst. And they had quite a lot to say about your… preferences.” 

He felt his blood freeze in his veins. His throat was suddenly dry as he tried to speak, but made no sound. Melchior seemed pleased by his silence,smiling as he began to make his way past Ernst.

He shoved the rose into Ernst’s chest, one of the thorns pricking his hand as he tried to grab the flower. “For the Lady.”

Ernst did not turn and watch Melchior leave. Instead, he looked down at the cut on his palm, which was starting to bleed. He stared at it for a while, feeling his heart hammering in his chest. Melchior couldn’t possibly know, could he? 

He pushed the thought aside, wiping the blood on his trousers, throwing the rose to the ground, and leaving the garden with his hands still shaking.

He needed to talk to Martha.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long wait for not a lot of anything but I hope you enjoyed anyway. Updates are going to be more regular now that everything is mapped out.


	5. No Hard Feelings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> warning: child abuse and internalized homophobia! Please proceed with caution!
> 
> The boys have never kept secrets

Moritz liked to think he knew Hanschen well. Or at the very least well enough to know when something was bothering him. There were the usual, tell-tale signs that appeared in almost everyone; Staring into space, absent minded hums as a response to questions, etc.

But there was also something to it that was just specifically “Hanschen”. The way his shaking hands had buried themselves in the fabric of his tunic and the light tapping off his foot in some unknown but elaborate beat that most likely matched some aria he was performing in his head.

For as long as Moritz had known him, he had only seen him this deep in thought a handful of times. Once was after the two had been caught stealing sweets from the kitchen for the very first time when they were 8 and he had been trying to think up some way for them to weasel out of any consequences. Another was when he and Moritz had misplaced a book that they had stolen from Lord Stiefel’s own library and he was trying to mentally retrace their steps so they wouldn’t be held responsible (Moritz was no help in this situation, he was in a state of panic).

For those previous incidences, there had been a clear cause. Something that was obviously the root of his friend’s anxieties. But Moritz was at a loss for what it could be. As far as he knew, their plan was going off without a hitch, Moritz’s more self destructive antics had toned down, and Hanschen had actually seemed to be in pretty good spirits earlier this morning.

He stole another glance at Hanschen, looking to see if anything had changed. Sure enough, Hanschen was still staring off into nothingness. Moritz looked down at Martha’s letter, folding it carefully and setting it down. He would look at it later.

He turned over his shoulder. “Are you feeling alright?”

Hanschen gave a surprised hum. “Yes, I’m feeling fine… Why do you ask?”

“You just seemed… distant.” Moritz shrugged. “I was simply worried for your health, that’s all.”

Hanschen bit at his bottom lip, then turned his attention back to the ceiling. “I’m fine.”

There was yet another long pause, in which Hanschen gave an unconvincing smile. Moritz sighed, pushing his chair out and standing. “Get your jacket.”

Hanschen bolted up. “What? Why?”

“We’re going to the market.” He said simply. Hanschen jumped up in surprise.

“And how do you expect to convince your father to skip out on your afternoon lessons for a casual romp in the market?” Hanschen raised an eyebrow, already seeming a bit more himself.

Moritz grinned a little, leaning cheekily against his chair. “Who said anything about him knowing?”

\---

Moritz paced outside of his father’s study a few times before building up the courage to enter. Lord Stiefel was sitting at his desk, his pen scratching against the parchment he was drafting. He heard the door close, and for a split second his pen stilled.

“Father?” He asked cautiously, taking another step forward.

Lord Stiefel did not answer, though it was worth noting that his writing seemed to scratch against the parchment even louder as if it could drown out his son’s voice.

“I shall not be attending my afternoon studies. I have urgent business to tend to at the cathedral, and I should not like to keep Father Sonnersnich waiting.” He tried to make his voice confident, but there was still a nervousness that he couldn’t shake away.

His father stayed silent for a little longer before his cool and calculated voice echoed through the room. “Your latin tutor had expressed a growing concern for your motivation. The same goes for your Mathematics tutor, your government policies tutor, and nearly every other upwardly minded sap who wanders through our doors.”

It was now Moritz’s turn to bite his tongue. He stared down at the tile floor beneath his father’s feet.

“Tell me, Moritz. Do you find this household’s name humorous? Is your future power and title just a mere joke to you?” He was standing now, his writing abandoned on the desk. Moritz could hear his footsteps nearing him. “Well?”

“No, sir.” He wanted the ground to swallow him whole. It felt like the walls were closing in, pushing him too close to the man in front of him.

“Look at me.” Lord Stiefel demanded. Moritz tilted his chin up a little but not looking him in the eye.

“I said look at me!” He grabbed Moritz by the chin and roughly forced his head up. 

As strange as it probably sounded, Moritz hated looking at his father. It was like looking in a mirror that could only show what one feared becoming. It was someone standing before him, sharing almost all of his features. It was him, but a few decades older and full of contempt. There was no love whatsoever. Not for life, not for his work, and especially not for the people most would hold dear.

“I have worked hard to keep this family’s legacy alive and respectable,” His father’s gaze was steely. “I will not allow one unfortunately incompetent branch of this family tree to cause everything our ancestors have worked for to crumble.”

Moritz opened his mouth to speak, but before he could, he felt the back of his father’s hand hit him on his cheek. He winced, his eyes shut tight.

His father pulls his hand back to his side, and Moritz saw his wipe it against his pant leg as if he had just touched something appalling. “Church,” He said calmly. “May do you some good. You are excused.”

Moritz nodded, turning and leaving the room as fast as he could without tripping over his feet. Once he was far enough away, he decided to stop for a second and gather his thoughts.

He had done this far too many times than one should consider normal. In fact, this exchange was not the worst he had ever had with his father. Once when he was thirteen, he was feeling a little defiant and had actually made an attempt at defending himself. The only thing it had earned him were several bruises up his arm.

He touched his cheek, hoping that it wasn’t going to leave a mark. The last time Hanschen saw a bruise from one of these visits, he had interrogated Moritz for nearly an hour trying to get him to tell him where he had gotten it from. Moritz glanced at his reflection in the glass pane of a nearby window. There was a red mark on his cheek, but it did not look like it would bruise.

He sighed in relief, letting the back of his head fall back against the stone wall, letting his reeling mind calm for a second. 

He couldn’t let Hanschen see this.

\---

To say that Hanschen felt bad was an understatement.

As he walked through the market, Moritz beside him with the usual playful demeanor that the bustling market often provided him, he thought about the past decade he had spent by his side. They had been each others’ only comfort for the majority of their short lives. They told each other everything…

So why was he so hesitant to tell him about this?

It wasn’t a real question. He knew the strong possibility that Moritz would hate him if he knew the sudden epiphany that was dawning in Hanschen’s mind.

Part of him wished that he had never met Ernst. That’s what started this entire internal conflict, Ernst and the strange feelings that bloomed in his chest and coiled around his lungs.

He had only met with Ernst a few times, seven at the most. It was only supposed to be a quick exchange of love letters that neither of them had written. But slowly, Ernst’s smile and easy conversation was chipping away at Hanschen’s armoured heart. He was fond of him, he even dared to consider him as a friend.

But this was creating a new problem. He had two people in his life who he cared about deeply, who he was starting to value more than himself despite only knowing one for a short time. But the feelings were… Different. Too different to be the same kind of devotion.

When he realized this the night after delivering the first letter, he had felt his entire spine freeze over. He had tried to ask Moritz what it was like to fall in love, but the answer was not very helpful.

“It’s like being alive for the first time.” He had said in a dreamy voice, smiling at the silver cross that he had taken to carrying with him everywhere he went.

Hanschen was in love. He was in love with a young nobleman who he had no business even associating with on a friendly level, but the worst part was the uncertainty of which of his two friends he was referring to. Both options brought danger with them, like a black cat crossing his path. But one option…

He thought of Moritz, who had grinned at him and ran off to some fruit stand. His trusting, lazy smile and the way he politely slipped past the crowd.

One option was absolutely unthinkable.

There was no way he could possibly tell his oldest friend that there was even a possibility that he could lo-

That he could feel that way about men.

He watched as Moritz ran back to him, the crowd seeming to part for him like the red sea. He had that effect on people, he was cute, naive, and trusting to a terrifying degree. Hanschen couldn’t tell if people moved to his will because they found him endearing or because they thought he was just simple. He happily produced two apples, tossing one to Hanschen in one swift motion.

“Catch!” He called, watching as the red fruit landed in Hanschen’s cupped hands. Hanschen immediately felt dirty at the mere thought of it all. What kind of selfish soul could see someone like Moritz and want to drag him down with them. Loving Moritz would be like snapping the neck of a dove.

But the more he thought, the more it had to be him. He hadn’t known Ernst for nearly as long, and before him he had never had anyone to compare his dynamic with Moritz to. So if he was in love with anyone, it would have to be Moritz…

Right?

He took a bite out of the apple. Regardless of who it was, he could never vocalize what he was feeling. If it was Moritz, he would just have to spend his entire life miserably by his side with no hope. He thought about Moritz again, sweet and honest Moritz.

It hurt to hide anything from him.

“What’s on your mind?” Moritz asked, cocking his head to the side.

Hanschen smiled, though it felt wrong. “Absolutely nothing, I finally know how you feel.”

Moritz laughed, and Hanschen payed very close attention to his own reaction to the sound. Nothing felt any different.

“Well, I’m glad.” Moritz joined him, leaning against the wall and watched the people passing by.

For the first time ever, Hanschen looked at his friend and had no idea what to say next. Though, with the calmness of the summer air and the serene company he was with, he decided the silence was more than welcomed.

Right now, he just wanted to enjoy a nice afternoon with his friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Poetry this kinda sucked”  
> Yeah, I know I’m sorry! I’ve had a lot going on recently.
> 
> In other news Hanschen is a mess


	6. It’s Not Living (If it’s Not With You)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bonds and realizations are made

Hanschen read the letter again, biting his bottom lip. “Are you sure about this?”

Moritz fiddled with the ring on his finger, feeling like the action was jinxing it. “I love her.” He said as though it were a real answer.

“You know how dangerous this is, right?” Hanschen sighed, his jaw tightened. “If someone finds this, they could-“

“I don’t care,” Moritz cut him off. “I just… I can’t live my life without her. And this… well, this makes it official.”

He saw something in Hanschen’s face soften. He looked back down at the letter before handing it back to Moritz. “It’s ready when you are.”

Moritz took the parchment, his hands shook as he folded it and slid it into the envelope. Gingerly, he picked up the silver ring that sat off to the side. He rubbed his thumb over the smooth metal before dropping it into the envelope. He then sealed it with the wax from the candle next to him. He waited for it to cool before handing it to Hanschen.

“Ready.”

\---

Martha was not prepared for Ernst to come barreling in with the level of enthusiasm that he had. She had nearly fallen out of her own chair when he swung the door open and closed it behind him not a millisecond later.

“Ernst, whatever is the matter?” She immediately started looking him up and down, scanning him for any visible injuries. Ever since he told her about Melchior’s threat she had been on edge. All it would take was Melchior saying the wrong thing to the wrong person and Ernst would lose everything. “Are you hurt?”

That’s when she saw him, red faced from running and a huge smile across his face. She let out an exasperated sigh.

“Dear lord, Ernst! You need to be more mindful! I thought you were hurt!” She shook her head, offering him her chair. He took it gratefully.

“I was in the market… Hanschen… told me that...” He looked down at the letter in his hand as if he just remembered that it existed. “Read it!”

Martha looked down at it, one eyebrow arched. “It’s one of Moritz’s letters, as much as I cherish them I will admit I don’t see the need for-”

“Martha!” He cut her off, seeming to have regained his breath. “Read it!” 

Carefully she took the envelope from him and ran her finger along the flap. She broke the seal and went to slide the letter out. Much to her surprise, something else fell out into the palm of her hand. 

“Is that a…?” Martha didn’t know what to say. A ring. He had sent her a ring. 

She didn’t need to read the letter to know what this meant. She knew Moritz well enough to know what he was asking.

Ernst was watching expectantly, his eyes wide with excitement. She looked from him to the ring, feeling this weird pressure building up in her chest. What was she supposed to say? How could she possibly say yes when she knew there was nothing they could do beyond that?

“I…” She looked up at Ernst. “I can’t.”

Ernst seemed to understand. “Martha, it’s going to be alright.”

“No! No it’s not!” She could feel the tears welling up in her eyes. “It’s not fair! I cannot just say yes to something that I know will never be! I cannot-”

“Martha!” Ernst grabbed her shoulders, forcing her to look him in the eye. She was shaking, the ring still clutched in her hand as if letting it go would be letting go of everything she loved.

“I canno-”

“Do you love him?” Ernst’s question was just as easy as it sounded. Really, it wasn’t a question. He already knew the answer.

“Yes.” She didn’t hesitate. She knew she loved him, that wasn’t the problem. She loved him more than anything.

Ernst smiled, his grip on her shoulders growing lax. “Then say yes!”

Martha looked confused. She shook her head and looked down a little. “But what about-”

“I will take care of everything else.” Ernst assured her. “All you have to do is say yes. I swear to you that if this is what you want, I will do everything in my power to make it so.”

Martha opened her palm, gazing down at the ring again. She thought of what it would be like to be married to Moritz. In a perfect world, there would be no need for panic. She could say yes with no concern for what may happen. 

Then it hit her. It wasn’t a proposal from an outside force or some naive onlooker. This was from Moritz himself. He sent her this. He sent her this because he wanted to marry her. That was all she needed to know.

“Yes.”

\---

Hanschen didn’t move from his spot in the market. The moment he told Ernst what was in the envelope and saw the look on his face, he knew he wouldn’t have to wait long for an answer.

Not even an hour had passed before he saw Ernst running back to him, pushing against the stream of people going about their daily lives. He had a wide smile and a small paper in his hand.

“You’re still here!” He panted, breathless from his own quick pace. The smile that found its way to Hanschen’s face was easy and genuine.

“Figured it was best if I stayed behind.” He gestured to the scrap of paper in Ernst’s hand. “Is that the lady’s answer?”

He looked confused for a second, but clarity eventually washed over. “Oh, you mean Martha! Er, yes.”

He handed the half sheet of paper to him. Hanschen flipped it over to the side with writing, reading what it said.

There was no flowery language, no shared inside jokes, just a clear and concise “yes” written in neat, loopy letters. Hanschen couldn’t help but laugh, wondering hom Moritz had managed to attract such a sensible person. He waited for the dull knife of jealousy to sink in, for that familiar pain to overtake his lungs.

But to his dismay, it didn’t come.

“So how are we going to manage this without the entire city finding out?” He looked up at Ernst, who had finally managed to straighten his spine. “It’s not like we can waltz into the local cathedral with the heirs to the two most prominent families and demand they be married.”

Ernst smirked, an expression that both intrigued and terrified Hanschen. “There’s a little chapel outside of the city, right at the very edge of the forest. Go east and eventually the only path in sight leads directly to it. The priest there will take almost any request as long as it is accompanied with an agreeable sum of money.”

“Ernst, I’m shocked. How did you come to know of this?” Hanschen raised an eyebrow.

Ernst laughed, and Hanschen felt something in his chest grow lighter. “When you live amongst nobles, you pick up a few things. I’m sure you can relate.” 

Hanschen laughed. He had to admit, it was one of the only perks of living in Stiefel Manor (aside from Moritz himself). Gossip also made great currency in a place like that.

“When shall we meet?” Hanschen asked. Ernst thought for a moment.

“Once everyone is asleep, leave for the chapel. We’ll follow close behind.” He said. “If all goes well, we should be back by morning.”

Hanschen nodded. “We will see you there.”

\---

It had not been difficult to convince Moritz to sneak out in the dead of night. It had not even been hard to keep his spirits up on the long trek to the chapel. But keeping him from falling apart on the steps while waiting for his bride-to-be? That was proving to be quite the task.

“Moritz, please calm yourself.” Hanschen placed his hand on his pacing friend’s shoulder. “I’m sure they will be here any minute.”

Moritz sighed, stilling himself. “I know. I just… God, I’m nervous. I don’t even know why, I just am… I didn’t think any of this was ever going to be possible.”

Hanschen smiled. “What, marrying the daughter of your father’s worst political opponent?”

“No,” Moritz was so lost in his thoughts he hadn’t even noticed the humor in Hanschen’s voice. “Marrying someone I love.”

Hanschen felt the heart in his chest still for a second. Marrying for love was uncommon enough as it was, but it was almost unheard of amongst nobles. He felt a sudden pride in the role he played allowing this to become a reality.

Just then, Moritz stared off into the distance with his eyes narrowed. Hanschen followed his line of sight and saw two figures making their way up the path. Moritz seemed in a trance as he walked back down the steps to get a better look.

Hanschen saw one of the figures pick up their pace, growing faster by the second before eventually breaking out into a run. Moritz followed suit, and the two collided with an embrace, nearly falling to the ground wrapped in each others arms. 

‘Martha,’ Hanschen thought, watching as the couple hesitantly pulled apart. Ernst followed close behind, jogging to try and catch up with his enthusiastic companion. Hanschen walked over to the group, a smile on his face.

“Moritz, this is Ernst.” Martha introduced her fiance to her companion. Ernst went to shake his hand, but Moritz wrapped him up in a hug instead. He whispered something to Ernst that made him smile.

Martha turned her attention to Hanschen. “And you must be Hanschen!”

He was almost shocked that she knew his name. He shook her outstretched hand in some type of dumbfounded silence.

“Moritz has written much about you, he says you serve as both his impulse control and his partner in crime.” She smiled. “I’m glad he has a brother who can keep him in line, god knows I can't.”

Brother. That word elicited a feeling in him that was entirely foreign. He looked up at Moritz, who was turning bright red. Brother… he actually kind of liked that.

\---

Nothing had felt more real to Moritz then standing next to Martha at the altar. It was like breathing for the first time. 

She was standing next to him in a simple but elegant green gown, her hair pulled back in braids and her eyes determined. She looked like something right out of his wildest dreams, making him pinch himself every once in a while to make sure it wasn’t his brain playing some cruel trick.

He had barely been listening to what the priest was saying, simply waiting for his turn to say “I do”. It doesn’t matter what he promises, he would give her absolutely anything.

He felt Hanschen elbow him from his other side. He took it as his que to tune in to whatever the priest had to say.

“-So long as you both shall live?” The priest looked up at Moritz Impatiently over his reading spectacles.

Moritz felt Martha squeeze his arm in anticipation. “I do.” He said with confidence and without hesitation.

The priest turned to Martha, clearly unwilling to read the vows again. Martha smiled brighter than the sun, looking as though she was about to jump out of her own skin with excitement. “I do.”

The priest sighed. “You may kiss the-”

He didn’t need to finish before Martha pulled Moritz in for a passionate kiss. He had been waiting to do this again since the night on the balcony. He kissed back, his hands finding her waist. He didn’t care if the entire world saw, she was his wife and they had a right to do this whenever they pleased.

Reality could wait for a bit longer.

\---

Ernst slipped out of the chapel, taking in the cool air. He felt the weight that he was sure the happy newlyweds would realize soon enough. Where were they going from there? When they went back to their homes, separate from one another, nothing would have changed. He and Martha were still slated to be married. He was sure Lord Stiefel was setting up some type of match for Moritz as he stood there at the altar, still holding his wife.

He turned the corner, surprised to see Hanschen sitting with his back against the wall. He was staring up at the rosey sky. 

“You needed some air as well?” Ernst called out. Hanschen seemed to be broken out of some kind of trance.

He gave a humorless laugh. “I suppose.” He looked back up at the sky, the sun coming out of her slumber and starting to peek over the horizon. “Just thinking is all.”

“About what?” Ernst settled himself in the grass beside him. 

Hanschen hesitated, his lips pursing before he continued. “Did you know that the greeks believed that the sun was a chariot pulled by a god, who could see everything under him as long as he was out.”

Ernst nodded. “Yeah, Helios, wasn’t it?”

Hanschen brightened a little. “Depends. Sometimes it was Apollo. They couldn’t really decide, I suppose.”

Hanschen himself looked like a sun god in the dawn’s pale light. He was practically glowing. His blonde hair, which was rare enough as it was, looked otherworldly. Ernst desperately wanted to say something to him about it. 

“You’re very well read for…” He trailed off. “You are very well read, I mean.”

Hanschen laughed. “It’s alright, I’m not offended. It’s not common for slaves and serfs to read anything, nevermind classic literature.”

“Did Moritz teach you?” He asked, genuinely curious. The two had something he had never seen before, which made Ernst want to know everything about it so he could feel it too.

Hanschen tensed, seeming to curl in on himself. “No. He didn’t.”

“Oh…” Ernst was confused. “Did your father-?”

“Let’s just,” Hanschen cut him off. “Enjoy the sunrise, shall we?”

Ernst didn’t take his eyes off of Hanschen, who leaned his head against the wall. His partially unbuttoned undershirt exposed the curve of his neck. He turned his head to look at Ernst, his brow furrowed in confusion.

Ernst wasn’t sure what came over him. Maybe it was the romance still in the air from the wedding, maybe it was the pastel colors of dawn, maybe it was something that had built up over the past few weeks, or maybe it was just that they had never been totally alone before.

He leaned in, closing the gap between the two. Hanschen froze, but eventually moved his lips as well. It felt like an eternity in an instant, wrapped up in each other's arms and surrounded by each other’s heat.

Suddenly, Hanschen pulled away with wide eyes. Ernst suddenly realized exactly what he had done.

“H-Hanschen, I’m sorry! I-” He started, stuttering. Hanschen bit his lip, then without a word he got up and walked back to the front of the church. 

Ernst was alone again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I loved writing this!  
> Also I updated twice in a month, who am I?


	7. Hopeless Wanderer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Im dropping some serious bombs in this big boy. 
> 
> WARNING!!! IMPLIED SEX AHEAD!!! NOTHING EXPLICIT BUT ITS STILL THERE!!!

Hanschen was not looking forward to delivering this letter. It was less due to the letter and more due to the person who he would have to see to deliver it.

He was fortunate enough to not have to deliver anything the day after the wedding, seeing as Moritz slept the entire day away (including in his lessons). He was sure that it was a very similar narrative for Martha as well. But when Moritz awoke this morning, he woke with an entire novel drafted for his wife. 

Hanschen was still recovering from the worst case of emotional whiplash he had ever experienced. He entered that church thinking he was madly in love with the groom, had to grapple with the realization that he actually saw the groom as his brother of all things, and ended the ordeal off with another man kissing him.

Did he love Ernst? He had asked himself that question over and over again and still couldn’t quite figure out what his answer was. But with every new point that came to his mind, he was starting to not want to know the answer.

He felt a tap on his shoulder, which pulled him back to their shady corner of the market. He knew Ernst was standing behind him, his face probably red from the nerves and the stifling August air.

He turned. “Hello.” He tried not to sound too caught off guard, but he was quite positive he failed. 

Ernst regarded him, with an awkward head nod. “”Hello.”

The two stood off to the side of the market, watching the commuters go about their daily lives. Hanschen extended his arm, Moritz’s letter in his hand. Ernst took it, then handed Hanschen the letter from his tunic pocket. Hanschen nodded, turning to go.

“Wait, Hanschen!” Ernst grabbed his shoulder. “Please… can you not stay?”

Hanschen sucked in a shallow breath. “I’m afraid I have other duties to attend to.”

“Please, I just want to talk with you. Last time I saw you… I was out of line, and I just want to make sure…” He paused, looking around at all the people around them. “I just want to talk to you.”

Ernst’s hand fell from his shoulder abruptly. “Ernst, I’m… I need to go.” He didn’t move though, he only stood and stared at the nervous boy in front of him.

“... What about tonight?” Ernst asked, his voice lowered.

“What do you mean?” Hanschen took a step closer, his voice lowered to the same near whisper. 

“Sneak out after everyone falls asleep and meet me here.” Ernst suggested, putting his hands in the pockets of his tunic. “We can talk then.”

Hanschen hesitated. “I cannot. Moritz will worry if I’m not there when he wakes. And I… well, I can’t explain can I?”

“Bring him with!” Ernst said immediately. “I’ll take you to Bessel Manor, he can see Martha!”

“Ernst, absolutely not!” Hanschen said sternly. “That’s far too dangerous!”

“Hanschen, please!” Ernst grabbed Hanschen’s forearm, stopping him from walking away. “I need to talk to you.”

“No, this is too risky!” Hanschen gently pulled Ernst’s hand away. 

“Everything we have done thus far has been risky!” Ernst argued. “Please, this is important.”

Hanschen knew it would be unwise to agree. He knew that sneaking into Bessel Manor for the second time could get them killed. So his answer came as a shock even to him.

“Alright…” He nodded slowly. “Alright, I will.”

\---

“Hanschen, this is dangerous!” Moritz argued. “And if I may add, uncharacteristically reckless.”

Hanschen sat on the bed, his head in his palm. “I thought you would be elated to hear this. You get to visit your wife, in case you forgot.”

“Of course I’m excited, it’s just…” Moritz looked over to his friend. “What exactly is going on?”

“I’m not sure what you mean.” Hanschen said simply, using a shrug to punctuate his sentence. 

Moritz stood up from his chair, running his fingers through his hair nervously. “Listen, you can tell me if something is wrong. I will never judge you.”

“For god’s sake, Moritz! Why do you assume something’s wrong?” Hanschen huffed, crossing his arms and leaning back.

“Because you’re acting strange!” Moritz was almost pleading. “You have been for days, and you won’t talk to me!”

“Is there something wrong with me acting strange?” Hanschen snapped, sitting back up straight. “It’s not as if you are a paragon of consistency!” 

Moritz rubbed his hand on his temple, taking a deep breath. “If you don’t want to tell me, that’s… that is fine. But please tell me that whatever it is, you aren’t in any immediate danger.”

Hanschen glanced up at him, guilty. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his thighs. He looked back down at his feet.

Moritz felt his anxiety rising in his chest. He kneeled down next to Hanschen, tiling his head to look into his eyes. “Hanschen, please!”

His friend looked up at him. “It will be alright. I’m not in any danger.”

Moritz wanted to believe him. He wanted to be able to fully trust this boy who has become like a brother to him. And even though he didn’t, he knew that he was going to have to. He nodded, pursing his lips.

“It’s… it’s a matter of the heart.” Hanschen said so quiet that it was almost a whisper. Moritz saw his hands shake. “That’s all I can tell you at this moment.”

Moritz felt himself relax. This little confession made him feel a bit better about allowing Hanschen to keep his reasoning secret.

“Then I shall pry no more.” He said with a smile. He stood again, this time his demeanor a bit calmer. “Whoever she is, I wish you luck.”

Hanschen reacted in a way that Moritz didn’t quite understand. He looked grateful, guilty, and distraught all at once. “Thank you.” That was all he said.

Moritz decided it was best to leave it at that.

\---

Martha awoke with a start, the noise outside her door faint but noticeable none-the-less. Her gut reaction was to freeze up, her hands clutching the sheets as she listened closer.

A familiar voice chattering in a hush that just wasn’t quiet enough to pass as a whisper made her break out of her trance and roll her eyes. She slid out of bed, tugging a shawl loosely over her cold shoulders and walking swiftly to her door. She tugged it open with no particular concern for the loud creak it would make.

“Ernst, I wish you would limit both your visits and your volume to a more acceptable-” She began to scold her cousin, but stopped when she saw the two figures that accompanied him.

The closest to her was Hanschen, who quickly noticed her state of undress and politely averted his eyes to the ground. The other member of their group, obscured by both the darkness and the black hood he wore, did not seem to show the same respect.She was ready to make a subtly crude comment on his behavior when she suddenly processed that the boy in front of her was Hanschen. She didn’t have time to fully absorb what that meant before the third figure stepped forward and removed his hood.

Moritz was looking at her in the way that most would admire a sunset. It was as if he was a weary traveler and she was a forgiving oasis ready to heal and shelter this hopeless wanderer. Martha realized she would never get used to someone looking at her like this and relished in the fact that she would never have to.

She smiled, taking a few steps forward and embracing him. The action took him by surprise, but he did not hesitate to wrap his arms around her waist and hold her closer.

When they finally parted, Moritz took both of her hands into his and kissed them. She smiled so wide that it almost hurt. It had only been a day since she had last seen him, but still it felt like it was too long.

Suddenly her smile fell and her brow furrowed. “What are you doing here?”

“I missed you!” Moritz gave her a more sheepish smile, very different from the aloof grin he had sported only a few moments earlier. 

Martha looked up at Ernst, who was rubbing the back of his neck and giving her a nervous glance. “Surprise?”

“No one saw us.” Moritz gave her hands a reassuring squeeze. “The only people who know we’re here are you and Ernst.”

Somehow his confidence made her anxieties melt away. A sweet, lovestruck smile found its way back to her lips and she fought back the urge to pull him down for a kiss.

Hanschen glanced down the corridor, his hands fidgeting with the hem of his tunic. He shared a knowing glance with Ernst, who responded in his own way. Marta couldn’t help but wonder if they were speaking some kind of language that no one else could understand. Her eyes went back up to Moritz’s, who was watching them communicate with the same level of intrigue.

“Well, I’m afraid I must go attend to some, uh… business.” Ernst said awkwardly. He looked back over to Hanschen. “Would you care to join me?”

Hanschen gave a small nod, barely noticeable in the dark. Ernst responded by bidding the couple a silent goodbye before closing the door to Martha’s bedroom and vanishing from Martha’s sight.

Martha’s anxieties led her to take Moritz by the hand and carefully walk him out to the balcony, an area that was out of the line of sight from anywhere in her bedroom.The newlyweds looked out onto the garden, illuminated by the glow of the fireflies and the pale moonlight.

“So,” Martha started coolly, the corner of her mouth turning upwards into a confident and teasing smirk. “Do you often sneak out of the house in the middle of the night for secret romantic affairs? Because I might have a few concerns if this is a habit of yours.”

Moritz laughed, leaning on the railing and resting his cheek on his palm. “It’s funny isn’t it? Most noblemen are sneaking out to get away from their wives, and yet I have to sneak out just to see mine!’”

Wife. Martha was really starting to like that word in ways she never thought she would.

The two stood on the balcony, talking to each other about anything that happened to cross their minds.

“My governess used to tell me this story,” Moritz had said at one point. “About a headless queen. She was beautiful, and a good diplomat-”

“How did people know she was beautiful if she didn’t have a head? And how was she a good diplomat? Could she even talk?” Martha giggled, her brow furrowed with curiosity.

“That’s hardly the point!” Moritz laughed, playfully bumping her with his shoulder. “Anyway, despite all of that, she still felt this great loss, Then one day she met a king with two heads, and they just-”

“Completed each other?” Martha finished for him.

Moritz smiled at her in adoration. “Yeah, that’s exactly it.”

The two of them continued, allowing the conversation to drift from topic to topic like a river.

“If you had children,” Martha leaned forward on the balcony. “Would you rather have boys or girls?”

Moritz thought for a moment before giving his answer. “Girls. Definitely girls.”

Something about his answer unsettled Martha. “That’s quite peculiar for a nobleman to say… may I ask why?”

Moritz blushed, his eyes darting to the ground. “My father and I… well, we don’t get along. I suppose I’m afraid of having a son. I just… I don’t know how one would even go about it.”

“Go about what?” Martha asked.

Moritz hesitated, biting his bottom lip. “Loving him. As silly as it sounds, I don’t think I know if it’s possible for a father to love his son.”

The two stood in silence, listening to the faint chirps of crickets in the grass below them. Martha tried to think of something to say. “What about your mother?”

“She… She isn’t around.” He said simply.

Martha felt her heart sink. “Oh… Is she-?”

“Dead?” Moritz finished for her. “That’s the worst part, I’m not even sure. My father says she is, but I remember a cook telling me she ran away with some young foreign nobleman when I was just a baby. I have no idea which one is the truth.”

Martha didn’t know what else to say. Instead, she placed her hand on top of Moritz’s. He smiled at her, turning his palm and holding her hand in his.

“What about you?” He asked. “Boys or girls?”

“Boys.” Martha said with no signs of hesitation. Moritz raised his eyebrows, almost as if he was asking her why. “I want my children to be able to grow up in a world that they stand a chance in. This world doesn’t allow daughters to do the same.”

Moritz nodded sadly, giving her hand another squeeze. She decided to leave out how she understood how he felt about not knowing how a parent is supposed to love a child. She didn’t need to worry him. Still, somehow she felt as if he already knew.

A breeze came, making Martha shiver and pull her shawl around her shoulders even tighter. Moritz stood up straight. “Are you cold?”

Martha didn’t even have time to respond before Moritz had taken off his own cloak and wrapped it around her. “We should get you inside.” She suggested, carefully leading her towards the door.

Once they were inside, Moritz gently guided Martha to the bed and sat her down. He went to sit down himself, but then remembered his manners and bolted back up. He looked to Martha as if to ask her for permission. She gave him a nod of affirmation, watching him sit down.

Suddenly, Martha felt something deep in her for the first time ever. More specifically, she felt a deep want for something. She gazed at Moritz, who’s pale skin was glowing in the faint candle light. Her throat suddenly felt dry, and she felt like she was being pulled in closer by some invisible force.

She leaned forward, bringing Moritz in for a kiss. It was far from the first time they had ever presse their lips together, but there was something different about this. Something that was peeking out from the curtains, waiting for something to start. The two laid down on the bed, still tangled together. Martha felt Moritz’s hand run along the hem of her silky nightgown, settling itself right where her hip ended and her thigh began. 

Suddenly, as if struck by lightning, Moritz moved his hand and pulled away. He looked nervous. “Martha, I don’t… are you sure we should be doing this?”

Martha blinked up at him. Looking back down at the sheets in shame. “I’m sorry, I should never have… I must have misunderstood what you wanted.”

Moritz’s face turned bright red. “I-No, I want to, it’s just… Should we?” His tone had changed, his question sounding less like a question of morality and more like a question that was just for her.

Martha thought for a second. “We’re married.” She said, as though it was a gentle reminder rather than a suggestion.

Moritz nodded at her, his grey eyes hazy and dumbfounded. His hand found it’s way back to the position it had been in before, this time with more conviction. “We’re married.” He repeated.

That was all Martha needed to hear.

\---

They had barely made it down the hall from Martha’s bedroom before Ernst stopped him.

“I know a place where we can talk without any interruptions,” He said, pulling something from his pocket and handing it to Hanschen. “But you might want to put this on. We’re going to be passing through the kitchens and god knows the cooks and serving boys never sleep.”

Hanschen unfolded the cloth object, holding up a soft cap, far too big for his or Ernst’s head. He raised an eyebrow at his companion and held it up.

“Blond hair is not a common color, in case you haven’t noticed. It’s better to be safe than sorry.” Ernst explained. “People are still talking about Lord Stiefel’s son and servant who snuck into the manor attempted to seduce his daughter.”

“Is that what we were doing?” Hanschen asked humorously. “I wish Moritz had told me that was the plan, he would have never stood a chance if I had known.”

To his surprise, Ernst actually laughed at that. Hanschen smiled at the sound, pulling the cap over his head

“So where exactly is this place? I’ve never heard of any place in a Manor that is truly private.” Hanschen asked as the duo continued down the hall. Ernst was moving quickly, his long legs going at a pace that was starting to border a jog. Hanschen had to admit, this looked much more suspicious then if the two were just walking at a leisurely pace.

Ernst looked back at him, smiling. “Who ever said anything about staying in the Manor?”

Their conversation died the moment they reached the Great Hall. Ernst was right, the serving boys were still wandering the hall in their little groups despite the fact that the rest of the house was fast asleep. 

“Is my brother…?” He whispered to Ernst as they passed a group of youths playing some kind of game, the dice loudly clacking against the floor.

Ernst gave a nod, barely noticeable to the untrained eye. “He will be fine. None of these boys are dumb enough to been seen in that area of the house without authorization.”

Hanschen gave a nod in reply as the two crossed into the kitchen. Compared to the hall, it was much emptier but not quieter. The cooks were busily running about, cleaning, cooking, and speaking a variety of profanities in a variety of languages. They barely even notice the two boys as the pass through.

Ernst led Hanschen through a heavy cedar door, into a smaller room. Ernst lit a candle by the door before the let it shut with a loud thud. In the center of the room, there is a trap door that seemed to be made out of the same heavy wood as the door behind them.

Ernst looked over to him, holding the candle towards him slightly. “Do you mind?”

Hanschen nodded, taking the candle and holding it so that most of the room was illuminated. He watched Ernst walk toward the door, leaning down and lifting it open. The door fell to the other side of its hinges with a loud thud, revealing a dark passage underneath. Ernst took the candle back, climbing down into the darkness.

The catacombs. The realization hit Hanschen far too late, and he suddenly felt quite foolish. The catacombs connected most of the city, sheltering Verona’s dead as well as the activities that needed to be shielded from society's eyes.

He stood at the mouth of the opening, barely able to see Ernst and the dim light that he carried. Ernst smiled up at him. “Are you coming?”

Hanschen laughed, climbing down after him. Once his feet touched the ground, he felt an immediate need to look around. He had never actually been in the catacombs before, mostly because the cook told him and Moritz when they were 7 that if they did go down there then a skeleton would eat them up. Even though he now understood that this cook was really just trying to dicourage them from accidentally stumbling upon the less-than-innocent activities that such an environment bred, the fear has stuck.

He was almost startled by how out of place Ernst looked amongst the drab stone, so colorful and alive. Hanschen shook his head, dismissing the idea as quickly as it had come. It’s because he was alive. Hanschen probably looked just as jarring as Ernst did.

Ernst gave him an easy smile, though it didn’t do much to hide his shaking hands. “Do you not come here often?”

“No, I can’t say I do.” Hanschen laughed. “One of the cooks told Moritz and I a scary story about this place when we were younger. We avoided it ever since.”

Ernst laughed as well. “Awww, don’t tell me you were scared.”

Hanschen felt his face heat up. “Oh, uh… no, of course not. I mean, Moritz was and you know, he was young and I didn’t want to cause him any distress. But I was never afraid of it.”

“Of course,” Ernst said, beginning to walk forward. “You and Moritz must be really close.”

Hanschen followed after him, slowing to the same casual pace. “He’s like-” He cut himself off. “He’s my brother.”

Ernst looked down at the ground. “So… were you born there? In the manor, I mean.”

Hanschen almost stopped in his tracks, but forced his feet to keep walking. “No… I came when I was seven.”

There was a beat of silence as Hanschen kept his eyes fixed on the ground. “Alone?”

“Yes.” He said, looking back up. Ernst’s eyes were fixed on him. “I was a gift for Moritz. Well… kind of. I was more like a reminder.”

“A reminder?” Ernst looked confused. “For what, if I may ask?”

Hanschen hesitated. He had never actually talked about this with anyone who wasn’t Moitz. He wasn’t sure if it was the location, the company, or the way Ernst was looking at him that made him continue. “My family was from a country north from here. They were involved in the spice trade, and they owed Lord Stiefel quite a bit of money after their stock was stolen. They couldn’t pay for all of it, so they gave me to even it out. I was the youngest of eight sons, I was no use to them… it wasn’t a very hard choice to make.”

“But, that doesn’t sound right…” Ernst said, though more to himself than to Hanschen. “Both of our houses are elitist as hell, and sending money to anyone that wasn’t a noble was…”

He trailed off, the realization hitting him slowly at first, then all at once. He stopped in his tracks, looking at Hanschen with a mix of curiosity and horror. He seemed to be waiting for him to confirm or deny.

Hanschen stopped too, his jaw tight as he gave a mock bow. It did nothing to break the tension in the air. “Prince Hanschen of the Rilow house in Germany.”

Hanschen watched as Ernst’s eyes drifted to a lock of blond hair that had fallen loose from his cap.. “They sold you…”

Hanschen’s jaw tightened more. “They did.”

“How could they do that?” Ernst seemed… angry. Something Hanschen couldn’t understand. “They had no idea what could have happened to you! Or who they had given you to!”

Hanschen was taken back, not sure how to react to this. “Ernst, really. I’m alright. They don’t hurt me. You know how close Moritz and I are, he wouldn’t let them.”

It was all a lie, and Hanschen was sure that deep down Ernst knew that. Instead of letting him think on it for too long, he continued. “You know, Moritz was terrified of me the first day I was there.”

This seemed to peak Ernst’s interest. Or at least, he tried to make it overshadow their previous conversation for Hanschen’s sake. “Did he?”

“Yes, when we were younger he was terribly shy. His father dropped me off in his room, and he immediately moved to the other side of the room.” Hanschen laughed, remembering how Moritz had curled up on his bed and only looked over to him when he was sure Hanschen wasn’t watching. “It’s strange to think of how young we were.”

“What changed?” Ernst asked.Hesitantly, they continued to walk.

“Well, My Lord.” Hanschen started. “As time passes by, people tend to get older-”

“With all due respect, Your Highness, that’s not what I meant.” Ernst gave him a sly smile, which faded in an instance. “I-I’m sorry, I didn't mean it like that, I-”

“It’s alright, Ernst.” Hanschen smiled. “You don’t offend me.”

Ernst blinked a few times, clearly not sure of what else to say. Instead of waiting for him to sputter out another apology, Hanschen continued with his story. “He didn’t speak to me for a solid hour, until he eventually had to.”

“What did he say?” Ernst asked, his lips quirked into a smile.

Hanschen laughed again, remembering how the little boy that had become so close to him had looked up from his book and how his voice shook. “He was having trouble understanding his lesson. He asked me if I could read.”

Ernst gave a low chuckle, which did better at easing the tension than anything Hanschen could have said. The two continued to walk, enjoying a comfortable silence for a while.

Ernst looked over to him, biting his lip. “Well, now we’re both just avoiding the topic at hand.”

Hanschen sighed. “I suppose you’re right.”

“I’m sorry about… all of that. I never wanted to force myself onto you like that.” Ernst began, tripping over his words. “If I could take it all back, I would. I just hope this will not affect how we work together. I would hate to see Martha and Moritz have to suffer because of my actions.”

“It’s alright, really. As I’ve said before, you did not offend me.” Hanschen said quickly, putting his hands up in defense. 

Ernst looked back at him, with something that almost looked like hope. “You shouldn’t say things like that. Nothing hurts more than a cute boy getting your hopes up.”

Hanschen was taken aback a little. “I-I’m sorry?”

Ernst looked to his feet, a sad chuckle fall from his lips. “You know what I am. You have to know what your charms can do to me.”

The last few words were spoken as if it were a lighthearted joke, but Hanschen knew better than to take them at face value. Ernst looked almost resentful, though not of Hanschen. It was a type of hatred that Hanschen knew well. A hatred of something you can’t change.

“Ernst, I’m sorry if I ever-” He began, but cut himself off. The words he knew he had to say were choking him. “I do not hold any interest in you.”

The other boy bit his lip, pinpricks of tears forming in the corners of his eyes. “That is all I needed to hear.”

Ernst began to turn around, walking slowly and deliberately. The type of false confidence Hanschen had seen on his father, on his brothers, and on every nobleman he had been forced to wait on since. His mind wandered to the years ahead. The men he would be forced to serve in any way they saw fit. The vacant stares they would give as he poured their wine. Those who knew of his family might see how his blond hair catches in the light and they may even laugh. He stood, still as the corpses that surrounded him and thought of how it would not be long before he was among them.

Then, he thought of Ernst. He thought of him exactly as he had been that night, leaning against the wall of the garden in the middle of the party. He knew it then, now that he looked back. Home. that’s what he had thought of when he looked at him. At first he had been confused. His home was on the other side of the city. No, his home was hundreds of miles away. But it was cold and unwelcoming.

Ernst was warm.

“Wait!” He called out, almost unwillingly. “Ernst!”

He turned on his heel, walking quickly to catch up.”

“It’s alright Hanschen, I’m not upset, I-” Ernst was rambling, trying to distract himself before Hanschen finally caught up to him. He grabbed Ernst’s shoulder, turning him around and pressing his lips against his own.

Ernst melted into the kiss, the candle falling from his grasp as his hands found their way to Hanschen’s waist and into his hair. The kiss went on for an eternity, with hands wandering wherever they pleased under the cover of dark. When they opened their eyes, they saw nothing but the thin sliver of light that had leaked in from the kitchen and has illuminating the edge of the passage’s opening. Their eyes adjusted to the light and all they could see was each other.

“I lied.” Hanschen said, breathless.

Ernst didn’t respond at first. Instead, he pulled him back in for another kiss. Hanschen kissed back immediately with a passion. He felt like he had all the time in the world.

Ernst pulled back, just enough for their lips to part. Then, he whispered so low that Hanschen could barely hear him. “I’m glad.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That was a lot. I apologize.


	8. I’ll Follow You Into The Dark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And I oop.

Melchior woke up while the moon was high in the sky, slipping out of his bed quietly. He quickly got dressed in trousers and one of his white undershirts. He took the dagger from his bedside table, running his finger along the blade.

He didn’t want to do this, but after the conversation he heard between the priest and Lord Bessel, he knew he had no choice. The Lord of the house was growing impatient with the delay of his daughter’s wedding, and it was only a matter of time before he overrode the happy couple’s wishes and went through with the marriage anyway.

He was officially out of options. He tucked the dagger away in the waistband of his pants before slipping out of his bedroom door. The manor was asleep, each footstep echoing off of the stone walls with nothing to mask the sound. He slipped through the corridors, making his way to the other side of the house before stopping at one of the doors.

He took a deep breath, wondering if it was too late to turn back. He held nothing against Martha, they are only rivals due to their unfortunate order of birth and the people who bore them. He wished her no harm, but what other option did he have?

He entered her bedroom, closing the door and smoothly pulling the dagger he had stolen from Ernst’s room out of the waistband of his pants. Immediately he shivered and looked over to the balcony doors, which were wide open and bringing in the cold summer night’s air. His eyes moved to the bed, and soon his feet followed. There was something… off about the shape of the body that was under the covers. 

Melchior lowered the dagger as he approached the side of the bed. He saw a strip of skin, a bare shoulder it seemed, that was so pale it seemed to reflect the moonlight coming from the open balcony doors. His eyes narrowed, seeing that it was far too pale and thin to be Ernst. He decided not to waste any time, whoever it was had sadly been in the wrong place at the wrong time. Though, he would make a lovely motive for the narrative that Melchior was crafting to shift the blame. Ernst, the scorned lover, killing his fiance and the man who she had seen behind his back in blind rage. There was a tragedy to it that he was sure would appeal to the drama hungry aristocracy just fine.

Melchior grabbed the man’s shoulder, pulling him so that he was laying flat on his back. He felt the other youth jolt awake the moment Melchior’s hand found its way to his bare skin, but he made no sound. Melchior brought the raised dagger down with a precise arm movement…

Then he actually saw who this young man was.

There, with his hair mussed, his clothing discarded at Melchior’s feet, and his sleepy grey eyes wide, was Moritz of the Stiefel house. The Lord of this manor’s hated enemy, his future political rival. Melchior halted the dagger’s movement where it was, just an inch from the soft skin that guarded the other boy’s heart. Moritz did not seem to dare to breathe too deeply, as if the slightest movement of his chest would cause the dagger to bury itself deep inside of his fragile body.

Melchior didn’t move immediately, but instead stared down at the boy as his mind reeled with what the consequences of the act he had almost committed would have been. The two jumped a little when they heard Martha stir on the other side of the bed, equally naked and feeling around for her companion in her sleep. Carefully, Moritz put his hand out to where her hand was gently patting at the bed in it’s drowsy confusion. She smiled, satisfied before dozing back into her deep slumber without having ever opened her eyes.

That’s when everything fell into place. Melchior smiled, an act that seemed to only confuse Moritz even more, and pulled the dagger away from the other boy’s chest. He made a gesture toward the balcony, and then another towards the clothes on the floor. The other boy seemed to understand what he meant, giving a nod as he rushed to gather his own pants and undershirt.

Melchior walked out of the open doors, giving Moritz a moment to change in privacy. He Looked down at the dagger, suddenly glad that he wasn’t going to have to use it.

“It’s not her fault!” Moritz pleaded after he closed the balcony doors behind him. The top laces of his white undershirt were undone, showing the paleness of his collar bone and the dark bruises that had formed along it. “Do what you will to me, but I promise you she had no-”

“Let’s not pretend like I didn’t see what happened when I pulled you off of her.” Melchior cut him off. “If you had done something to harm her in the way you are trying to claim, you wouldn’t be so quick to admit it… Strange how when young men lie about their involvment in rape, it’s usually the opposite of what you are telling me. You know a false confession such as that could get you killed?”

Moritz eyed the dagger. “Seems to me like I didn’t even need to say a word to almost get killed.”

Melchior smiled at him, tossing the dagger to the side and holding up his arms. “Trust me, my friend. I mean neither of you any harm.”

“Well, you could have fooled me.” Moritz said coldly. Melchior laughed, which seemed to further throw Moritz off guard.

“A fair point… Is it alright if I inquire on exactly what your intentions here are?” Melchior looked him up and down. “I mean… Aside from the obvious.”

Moritz gave him a strange look, his chest puffing out. “I’m not sure what you mean?”

“Young men do not seduce rich young women for love.” Melchior pointed out. “So what exactly are you hoping to gain from this? Political power?”

“I will have you know,” Moritz said, looking offended. “That power has nothing to do with this. As hard as it may be for you to believe, I love her.”

Melchior laughed. “I can’t tell if you’re a fool or just a saint.” He considered for a moment. “Regardless, I believe you and I can help one another.”

Moritz raised an eyebrow. “How so?”

Melchior took a step closer to the boy. “As it stands right now, the only thing keeping me as the sole benefactor of the Bessel estate is your lover’s marital status-”

“Wife.” Moritz corrected.

Melchior blinked in confusion. “I beg your pardon?”

“She’s my wife.” He said again, with more conviction. 

Melchior nodded, making a mental note. “Well, it might trouble you to know that she also happens to be engaged to my cousin. If that marriage fails to come to pass while her father is still alive, then there is nothing for me to be concerned about.” He eyed Moritz again. “Do you swear to me that you are uninterested in any of the wealth and power that would come with such a match?”

“I swear.” He promised with no hesitation. “But I’m still not quite sure what you want me to do?”

“All you have to do is continue as normal. Once that old nuisance is gone, then I will validate your marriage and offer an end to this silly feud.” Melchior explained. “You’ll be free to do as you wish.”

“Her father… is he ill?” Moritz asked. “From what I’ve heard from Martha, her parents seem to be in good health.”

Melchior smirked. “Not yet, but I wouldn’t worry too much about that. I have my ways.”

“Wait, are you saying you’re going to…” He paled even more at the thought.

“For someone so madly in love with Martha, one would think you would be all for this plan.” Melchior’s smile fell. “I’m not the most empathetic of men, but even I believe that pig truly is getting what’s coming to him.”

“What do you mean?” Moritz asked, his eyes looking incredibly earnest. For a moment, Melchior was caught off guard. 

“... So you don’t know.” He laughed. “With the amount of times Lord Bessel’s enemies have tried to accuse him of various perversions in court, you would think it would be common knowledge.”

“I have never been one to pay much attention in court.” Moritz said it less as a joke and more as a fact. Melchior could practically see the gears turning in the other boy’s head as he tried to remember.

“Martha is a pretty girl.” Melchior suggested gently. “There would have to be a reason why it took so long for her to find a suitor…”

It took a few moments, but eventually it all clicked together. Melchior watched as all the pieces fell into place in Moritz’s mind, and for a second he would have given anything just to know exactly what was going through the boy’s head right now. It wasn’t until he saw all of the light drain from Moritz’s face that he realized that he actually didn’t. “He hurt her, didn’t he?”

Melchior smiled at him with half-genuine sympathy. “Noblemen are not known for having many virtues.”

They were silent for a moment. It seemed as though the entire world around Moritz had stopped spinning. His face hardened, and for a moment Melchior was sure that he was going to find where Lord Bessel was sleeping and put an end to him all on his own.

“Kill him,” He finally said. “And you can have all of it. Bessel Manor, Stiefel Manor, and all connected properties and businesses. Just let me and Martha be free of all of this.”

Melchior smiled. “Deal.”

\---

Weeks passed by in one big, beautiful blur for Hanschen. He and Ernst had moved their daily meetings to a more private location outside of the town’s watchful eyes. It was this lovely little clearing in the forest, where the trees parted just right, and let in just enough sunlight to warm them in the September chill.

“Fall feels like it’s coming early this year…” Ernst mused, his fingers intertwined with Hanschen’s and his head laying in the other boy’s lap. Hanschen gave a content hum in response, not wanting to think of what changes the colder months might bring. 

For the first time in so long, he wasn’t worried about a thing.

“So how has Moritz been keeping?”

Nevermind.

Hanschen sighed, letting his back fall against the trunk of a tree. “He has been… strange these past few weeks. It’s as if he is on edge. There's just this protective energy that surrounds him. He nearly took a beating last night for insulting a guest who made a suggestive comment about one of the serving girls… I’ve tried to talk with him, but it’s like he has this barrier up around him. He only smiles now when he reads Martha’s letters, which have become too inconsistent to keep him in high spirits for long.”

Ernst nodded. “I’ve barely been able to see Martha recently. Her father is up in arms, trying to push the wedding date forward. Last night, there was a shard of glass in his wine… One of the kitchen boys was beaten nearly to death over the whole ordeal.”

“Do you think he was trying to kill him?” Hanschen asked.

Ernst shook his head. “No… I don’t think anyone believes that. It was more of a message to whoever had tried to frame him.”

“Seems quite backwards.” Hanschen commented. “Punishing someone that you know is innocent.”

Ernst tensed. “It does, doesn’t it? Seems as though that’s how this entire system started as well. Family throwing each other to the dogs for a few extra acres of land.”

They didn’t speak much after that. Just stolen kisses and solemn silence as the sun began to set. The shadows of trees grew longer, and soon their sunny clearing was growing just as dark as the rest of the forest.

“We should probably be heading back,” Ernst said finally. “It’s getting cold. And dark.” He looked up at Hanschen. In the fading light, he looked so sad. “I should get you back before your brother catches wind that I’m the one who keeps stealing you for hours on end. I like my head attached to my shoulders.”

Hanschen laughed. “I quite like your head attached to your shoulders as well. Do you know how hard it would be to kiss you if it wasn’t?”

“I can imagine.” Ernst sat up, gathering the letter Hanschen had brought from Moritz. He frowned. “I wish I had something for you to return with… It might help ease Moritz’s mind if he was able to receive something more recent from her.”

Hanschen nodded in agreement. Every day that went on with no word from Martha seemed to drive him a little bit more towards the brink of insanity. “He’s been wearing the silver cross she gave him the night they met everywhere he goes. Sometimes, I see him holding on to it like it’s a lifeline.”

Ernst sighed, facing away from Hanschen. “It’s almost romantic. The way they seem to need each other.” He paused. “But it’s terrifying to those who love them.”

The two dropped the subject, instead intertwining their fingers as they walked back to town. Their concerns melted away as the first few stars appeared in the sky. “It’s so easy to see all of the constellations out here.” Ernst whispered. Hanschen smiled, but said no more. He was just glad for this quiet moment with someone that he was now quite convinced he loved.

The gate to the city was in view, a single torch hanging on the wall and a guard leaning against the entry apathetically. The two boys looked to one another before letting go of the other’s hand hesitantly. Hanschen pulled up the hood of his cloak, hiding any discernible feature. He allowed Ernst to walk ahead before following close behind. He stayed back, not drawing any attention to himself as Ernst talked with the guard. Neither man paid him any mind as the gate opened and the two were free to go through.

Now that they were in town, all interaction had to cease. There was simply too much to lose now, and neither was willing to let go just yet. Hanschen turned to leave when he suddenly felt Ernst’s fingertips graze against his knuckles. He made no movement to suggest to anyone watching what was going on. He didn’t even turn to face his lover. Instead, he just smiled at nothing in particular as he made his way back to Stiefel Manor. His hands felt so cold without Ernst holding them.

He climbed the garden wall, removing his cloak and stowing it in the bushes nearby. He then casually made his way through the kitchen doors, sneaking an apple from the bag as he went by. The corridors that used to feel so close to Hanschen’s heart suddenly felt suffocating. He wished nothing more than to pack up his few belongings, grab Moritz, and just go.

Once he reached his and Moritz’s chambers, he opened the door wide with no further warning. In hindsight, this may not have been the best idea. Moritz jumped up from where he sat on the bed, confused and terrified. When he saw Hanschen, his face went from confused to relieved, to angry. Hanschen closed the door behind him, absentmindedly pondering how weird it feels to be on the other side of this exchange.

“Where were you? You’ve been gone all day!” Moritz said, moving towards him.

“I told you this morning, I was going to the market.” Hanschen said calmly. “I go every day, do you not remember.”

“I went to the market to find you! You weren’t there!” Moritz raised his voice, but the tears in his eyes betrayed him. “Do you know how scared I was?”

“I’m sorry.” Hanschen said simply. “But I do not owe you an explanation. I told you where I was going, and that is where I went.”

“Just talk to me, I can help with whatever this is!” Moritz begged, taking a few steps forward. 

Hanschen pushed past him, his patience wearing down. “I’ve already told you, I can’t! That hasn’t changed! You can’t help me.”

“What are you so afraid of?” Moritz asked, turning again so that he was facing Hanschen. “I’ve stood by you during everything, why is it that I can’t with this?”

“You won’t understand it.” Hanschen said coldly, his arms crossing in front of his chest as if it would stop the truth from coming out. “I told you, I’m going to be fine. I’m not hurt. Can’t we just leave it at that?”

“No, something is clearly bothering you!” Moritz took a deep breath. “You can tell me… I could never fault you.”

“You’re one to talk about holding things in and allowing things to bother you!” Hanschen spat out. “You have been acting strange for weeks! What exactly are you so afraid of?”

They stood in silence, neither dared to move. Hanschen regretted it the moment the words came out of his mouth. Had he finally gone too far?

“... Everything.”

The words startled Hanschen, and he finally turned back to face Moritz. His brother’s face was as honest as ever, and Hanschen felt the familiar pang in his chest as he realized once more that Moritz will always be everything that he is not.

“All I want is for the people I love to be safe, and I’m learning that I can’t control that…” He took a step forward, but still looked like he wasn’t quite ready to bridge the gap between them. “You, Martha… I need you. Both of you. And every day when you leave I’m afraid you won’t come back. And every day I don’t hear from her I’m afraid that we’ve been discovered, and that the last letter I received is the last I will ever hear from her. I love both of you so much, in such different ways, and I cannot imagine living a day without you. Wherever you go, I would follow… But I cannot follow if I don’t know where you’re going.”

Hanschen thought for a moment. “And what if Martha and I went in different directions?”

“I’m afraid of that, too.” Moritz did not hesitate. “But if it’s what either of you wanted… Then how could I bring myself to stop you?”

Hanschen just stared at him, dumbfounded. Moritz lowered his eyes to the floor. “You don’t need to tell me. I understand if you don’t want to.”

“... I’m in love.” Hanschen said experimentally. He watched as the tension in Moritz’s shoulder dropped. The other boy smiled at him.

“Well, that’s nothing to be ashamed of Hanschen!” Moritz exclaimed, and Hanschen could hear the relief in his voice. “I would love to meet her! What is her name?”

Hanschen couldn’t handle looking at him. He closed his eyes and dropped his head in shame. “His…”

Moritz raised an eyebrow. “Pardon?”

“His.” Hanschen said more clearly, his heart attempting to beat out of his chest. “His name is Ernst.”

He listened as the room fell silent again, wondering what Moritz might do. After several, agonizing minutes, he heard Moritz’s footsteps. They started out slow, but grew quicker and louder as he approached. Hanschen braced himself, expecting the worse as the other boy grew closer. A slap, a punch, anything that might properly show the disgust that such a statement should bring.

Instead Moritz wrapped his arms around Hanschen’s tense body, pulling him close and squeezing him tight. It reminded Hanschen of those far off memories, of when his mother would hold him when he was little and tell him that everything would be alright. How she held him and cried the night before Lord Stiefel’s men came to take him away.

He couldn’t hold back anymore. The tears came in a flood as he wrapped his arms around Moritz and squeezed him back. They didn’t need to talk, the message was clear. There was absolutely nothing to forgive.

Moritz pulled back, and Hanschen could now see that they had both been crying. His grey eyes were serious as he took in a deep breath. “I will think the entire world wrong before I ever think that you are.” He affirmed, as if any of it needed to be said.

Hanschen realized that Moritz’s fear of him ever leaving was unfounded. Moritz was his brother, his only family.

He would go wherever he went, no matter what the cost.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next few chapters are going to make you mad.


	9. Forest Fires

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Please don’t hurt me  
> Major character death ahead

Martha stood in front of the mirror, watching as Wendla laced the back of her dress. Her hand was on her stomach, fighting back another bout of nausea. Wendla must have noticed how her grip tightened on the chair she was using to steady herself.

“Are you still not feeling well?” She inquired quietly, as if it were a secret just between the two girls. Martha gave her a nod in response, leaning more of her weight onto the chair rather than her legs. 

Wendla made quick work of the rest of the lacings before standing up and helping Martha get to the bed. The two girls sat down slowly. “I’ve kept the dress a bit loose today so as to not further upset your stomach.”

“Thank you, Wendla.” Martha said honestly. “Your care is greatly appreciated.”

The other girl smiled, her slender shoulders going up along with the corners of her mouth. “I’m going into town this afternoon to run some errands, perhaps I may stop by to ask the local doctor if he has any ideas for what might be causing this.” She leaned forward, pressing the back of her hand to Martha’s forehead. “You do not seem feverish, so that is a good sign.”

Martha gave her a gentle smile. “That is very kind of you, but please do not feel the need to spend any of your time out on me. You know in a few hours, I shall be just fine.”

“I know,” Wendla began, standing up slowly. “I would just much rather be safe than sorry. If there is a chance that there might be a treatment, then why not seek it out?”

Martha laughed, laying her head back down on the pillow. “I suppose I cannot talk you out of this, can I?”

Wendla stuck her tongue out playfully. “Not a chance!” She took a blanket from the foot of the bed and covered Martha up. “I will inform the rest of the household that you are feeling under the weather, and then I shall go into town. I shall see you in a few hours.”

“Wendla, wait!” Martha sat up a bit too fast, causing another bout of nausea to rush over her. “There’s no need to tell anyone else, no use in causing anyone to worry if it turns out to be nothing.”

Wendla gave a gentle nod. “Alright, I will keep it a secret. But if I find any information that could imply that this might be worse than we thought…”

Martha gave a nod of acknowledgement. “These are terms I can agree to.”

Martha watched as Wendla gave her another reassuring smile and dipped out of the room as quickly as she had come. Martha put her hand on her stomach once more, as if it would ease the pain that was gathering there. It felt more firm than usual, and she wondered if that was the sickness or the fear.

She layed back, praying for Wendla to return soon.

\---

Wendla entered the doctor’s office with a certain cheer that most people would not associate with such a place. The midwife behind the desk looked up and gave her a big smile. She ran out to her, enveloping the girl into a big hug.

“Oh Wendla, darling!” She exclaimed, squeezing the girl closer. “I was not expecting a visit from you today!”

Wendla giggled, hugging the woman back before the two pulled away. “I’m afraid I’m here on important business, Mama.”

Her mother’s face looked a bit more solem, but the smile still stayed where it was. “Ah, well then what is this business?”

Wendla bit at her bottom lip. “A friend of mine has been feeling ill. I was wondering if I might be able to speak to the doctor about her condition?”

“Has she no father to speak on her behalf? No brother or husband who could come do this job?” Her mother asked, scandalized. 

Wendla thought for a moment before shaking her head. “I’m afraid all of the people who would fit better for this job are preoccupied.”

Her mother gave a sympathetic nod before continuing. “Well, the good doctor is in conference with another patient right now, but I may be able to help.” Her mother went to the desk she had been working at before and pulled out a piece of parchment and a charcoal pencil. She took great pride in her ability to write, something that Wendla herself had always been envious of. “What are her symptoms?”

“Nausea,” Wendla paused between each word, giving her mother time to jot all of them down. “Dizziness, fatigue, strange appetites-”

Wendla took notice of her mother’s sudden stillness. She was no longer writing down what her daughter said, but instead was staring at Wendla in horror. “Has she bled?”

Wendla gave her mother an odd look. “Whatever do you mean?”

“Her monthly bleeding,” Her mother pressed on. “When was it due?”

Wendla was taken aback by her mother’s uncharacteristic boldness. “Two weeks ago.”

“And do you know if it came?” Her mother asked, now abandoning the list on the desk. She took a few steps towards her daughter, displaying a sense of urgency that Wendla had never seen her mother display before.

“No, it did not.” She said simply. “Mama, what does all of this have to do-”

“Is she married?” Her mother interrogated, not bothering to answer the question her daughter just answered. 

“Engaged.” Wendla answered. “Mama, I’m confused. What does all of this mean?”

Her mother put her hand on her shoulder. “Urge your friend to push for the wedding to be as soon as possible. If she hurries, then maybe no one will notice…” She trailed off.

“Mama, is she…” Wendla swallowed hard, fear rising up in her chest. “Is she going to die?”

Her mother looked at her, eyes softening. She reached out and carressed her child’s cheek. “No… But she will be in trouble if she does not do exactly as I have said. She is in a dangerous position, it may be her life on the line should this information fall into the hands of her father or her fiance.” She hesitated. “Wendla, your friend is with child.”

\---

Martha jumped up the moment she heard the door swing wide open. Wendla rushed in and closed the door quickly behind her. She looked flushed, her breathing labored as she turned to face Martha.

“Wendla, whatever is the matter?” Martha asked, pulling herself back up to a sitting position. Wendla gave her a wide smile, rushing to her side and taking the other girl’s hands in her own.

“Martha, it’s wonderful! Really and truly wonderful!” She squeezed her friend’s hands tight, her big eyes bright with happiness.

“What? What is wonderful?” Martha asked, her concerns for her own health suddenly dissolving. Wendla would not be this excitable over anything if she had found out anything that should cause concern.

“Oh, Martha, I’m still not sure how it happened! Mama would not explain it to me, but-” She interrupted herself with an excited squeal. “Martha, you’re pregnant!” 

The world crashed around her. She put her hand to her stomach, shaking and filled with terror. Every stirring movement cementing the new life that she had managed to create without even knowing. She thought about Moritz, and how only a few weeks ago they had talked about children. How he had held her that night, and how they had fallen asleep tangled together. She had almost thought she had dreamed it.

As it seems, she had not.

“We must tell Ernst!” Wendla exclaimed. “I shall go get him now! You must be married soon!”

Ernst… Dear lord, she had forgotten all about Ernst. The things that this would do to his own budding relationship with Hanschen. God, what has she done?

Wendla rushed out of the room, leaving Martha alone. No, not alone. She felt her hand, still on her stomach, and rubbed a few small circles over where she thought the baby might be. Carefully, as if not to wake her unborn child, she crossed over to the other side of her bedroom. She took out a piece of paper and began to write. Tears fell down her face, heavy as lead as she wrote her husband her very last letter.

She told him everything, the things she hadn’t yet gotten the chance to say, all the hopes she had once held for their future together. She told him about their baby, as if he had already been born. 

After she was done, she hid the letter in her desk. She knew the news would not take long to get to her father, who would probably have her married the very next day to the man that he assumes is the father. She allowed her mind to drift years into the future. She saw a little boy with her dark skin, her dark hair, and his father’s big grey eyes. She smiled despite the tears that were racing down her cheeks. 

At least she would still have a part of him with her.

\---

Melchior moved his ear from the door, starting to walk away from Martha’s door as quickly as he could once he heard Wendla’s footsteps approach the door. He turned the corner sharply as the girl walked down the hall in the opposite direction, unaware of the fact that she had been followed.

Melchior sighed, knowing he should have just killed them both when he had the chance. A baby. With news such as that, a wedding wouldn’t be too far off.

He began making his way to his own chambers, pondering on what he could still do to stop this. He could find some way to get rid of Ernst, whether by murder, accident, or simply just allowing the news of his prefernce towards men to spread. All of those options would result in the wedding being cancelled, but did have the inconvenience of one less advisor for his future pursuits.

No, getting rid of Ernst wouldn’t save anything anymore. Regardless of the marriage, Martha’s baby was still a huge obstacle that needed to be addressed. Granted, he had nothing to worry about if the child was a girl. Both mother and daughter would be thrown on the streets without a second thought. It was the chance of it being a boy that would cause concern. Lord Bessel had already proven that legitimacy was not a concern when it came to his heirs, all it would take was Mortz and Martha to have produced a son and he would be out of the running.

He stood in front of his chamber door, holted. Moritz. He smiled. Of course, how could he have forgotten! He ran into his bedroom, retrieving the sword from his wall and inspecting it. 

He only faltered slightly at the memory of the pale, thin boy on the balcony. His heart on his sleeve as he pleaded with Melchior to just let him and Martha go. He didn’t care for the power, or the money. 

It was unfortunate, really. Children don’t choose how, when, or to whom they were born. Melchior knew that well, and he was sure that this child that stood in his opposition would one day know it too. Moritz just happened to be born as a lamb in a den of lions. Verona’s aristocracy had a nasty habit of eating the innocent alive.

He looked back down to his sword. Really, he was doing Moritz a favor. He would allow Martha and the baby to live, and once Lord Bessel and Ernst were both dead he would even grant her and her child a place to live and a small allowance. He would leave them be, just as he promised Moritz he would.

As for Moritz… Well, he did not want to do this. But what choice did he have?

\---

Moritz stood in the market, examining a selection of apples as he waited for Hanschen and Ernst to return. He had insisted on tagging along today, mostly just to get away from everything for a little while. He looked up at the clocktower, just barely able to make out the time. They should be arriving any minute… Assuming Hanschen listened to him, that is.

Moritz turned around, and saw the market’s crowd parting like the red sea. Moritz tried to see past the crowd to see exactly who was coming, but the mass of people in front of him was just too dense. He heard the whispers of the crowd, but couldn’t quite make out exactly what they were saying.

As the crowd in front of him grew thinner and thinner, he could suddenly see Melchior, with a handful of men following him close by. The boy had his sword drawn, and while his face held anger his eyes seemed to hold nothing at all. Moritz felt the people surrounding him move to the side, and he made an attempt to join the tide of people rushing to get out of the young nobleman’s way. 

Melchior’s eyes scanned the crowd as he walked, but once they settled on Moritz he and all of his men went perfectly still. Moritz could have sworn he saw a smile flash over Melchior’s face, some mind of deranged greeting before he pointed his sword in his direction. Moritz felt the crowd around him rush away, leaving him exposed and alone with the tip of a sword staring at him menacingly.

“Heir to the Stiefel House,” Melchior began, with all of the false rage he could manage. “Draw your weapon.”

Moritz stared at the blade, knowing full well that he was in no position to question much of anything. “Might I ask why? Have I done anything to offend you?”

He did not mean for it to sound antagonizing, but it seemed that the crowd of spectators itching for a fight only heard what they wanted. The shouts he heard seemed to be targeted towards one of the two boys, with all of them hoping to egg them on.

“It is not anything you have done to me,” Melchior said calm and clear so that even those in the back of the audience could hold on to every word. “It is what you have done to my cousin.”

Moritz’s blood ran cold. He looked at Melchior pleadingly, silently begging for him to stop where he was. He glanced over to the crowd, watching as all their eyes fixed onto him They wanted a response.

“I’m unsure of what you mean, but I have no interest in fighting you.” He said simply, watching as the crowd’s energy deflated. 

“Oh, so you have such a habit of seducing young noblewomen that you cannot even recall any of the specifics? Do you even know her name, or does that not matter to you?” Melchior amped up his volume, and Moritz could hear the wave of intrigue that passed through the crowd. Older noblemen eyed Moritz suspiciously as they waited for his response.

“Whatever it is you think I did, I can assure you I am innocent. I won’t entertain this any longer-”

“She is pregnant, you know.” Moritz stopped cold in his tracks. This seemed to be the reaction that Melchior was hoping for. He smiled. “Oh, so now you must remember.”

Moritz opened his mouth to say something, but couldn’t find the words. She was pregnant? He wished he could let that sink in right now. He wished he could feel the absolute joy that such news should bring. He wished more than anything that he was with her right now, in some little cottage far away from the city. Instead, he was in the heart of it all with the entire city waiting for him to speak, and she was probably at home, terrified of what was going to happen next.

“Moritz!” He heard a familiar voice call out from the crowd. He turned and watched as Hanschen pushed his way through the crowd. Ernst was not far behind him, but knew better than to go rushing after his lover as he dove in front the entire city’s prying eyes. He ran to Moritz’s side.

“We should get going, sir.” He suggested gently, as if had just now realized that all eyes were currently on them. 

“Draw. You’re. Weapon.” Melchior hissed, his own grip on his sword tightening.

Moritz clenched his jaw. “I do not have a weapon to draw.” He stated, hoping it would be enough to escape by.

To his dismay, a middle aged man parted from the crowd, his own sword in his hand. He extended it to Moritz with a friendly smile, but Moritz could see the sinister look in his eyes. This man would love nothing more than to know what color Moritz’s blood would look like as it spilled on the cobblestone street.

“I will not entertain this.” Moritz said simply. He ignored the man’s outstretched sword, and in a moment of sheer stupidity he turned his back to Melchior.

He realized his mistake the moment he made. He heard the sound of the blade whipping through the air and the expectant hush of the crowd. Moritz was knocked to the ground, and for a moment he accepted death.

It wasn’t until he heard the clashing of metal that he realized he wasn’t dead. He jolted up to a sitting position, watching as Hanschen held the man’s sword against Melchior’s, blocking him from the strike that was intended to kill Moritz. The older man held his bleeding hand with disgust, which Hanschen must have cut while he grabbed the sword from his hands.

Moritz leapt to his feet. “Hanschen, stop!” He called. The crowd murmured their approval as Hanschen ignored Moritz’s plea. He took a step back, swinging the sword again.

Melchior blocked it with little effort, seeming pleased that he was able to goat someone into a fight. The two boys fought, their swords flashing in the afternoon sun. Moritz watched in terror, not knowing how to make this stop. While Hanschen’s swings were strong and precise, He wasn’t particularly fast. Melchior, however, seemed to be going slow for now. It was as if he was playing a game rather than holding the other boy’s life in his hands.

After a while, the fighting seemed to bore Melchior more than anything else. He quickened the pace, overtaking Hanschen quickly.

Moritz watched as his brother’s movements became more frantic. Hanschen began to struggle to keep up with Melchior’s constant movements. 

When the final strike came, it seemed to come in slow motion. Moritz saw all of it in parts. Hanschen tripping, Melchior pulling his sword back, and bringing it forward at full force. Hanschen fell to the ground.

He saw Ernst try to run to his aid, but was held back by two young men who were staring at the fight intently. Moritz ran to Hanschen, trying desperately to assess the damage.

There was a lot of blood. That’s all his brain could focus on. The blood on the ground, the blood on his hands, the blood coming from Hanschen’s side. He began pressing his hands to the wound as Hanschen tried to comfort him.

“Moritz, it’s fine! I’m fine! I’ll be ok-” His brother’s eyes widened. “Moritz!”

He knew Melchior was standing over him with his sword raised over his head. Rage burned inside him, and faster than he ever knew he was capable of, Moritz grabbed the sword laying next to Hanschen and turned around.

Next thing he knew, his nose was a few inches away from Melchior’s. The other boy’s eyes were wide, but held no emotion that Moritz could name. He didn’t understand what he had done until he felt something warm on his hands.

Moritz let go of the sword, which was buried to it’s hilt inside of Melchior’s chest. The other boy began to fall, and by the time his head struck the ground he was dead.

Moritz stood still for a moment as the crowd held their breath. Thousands of eyes stared at him, but the only ones that mattered to him right now were Melchior’s. They were still open, but they didn’t move. They used to hold nothing, but now they forever immortalized that last look of fear on the boy’s face.

Moritz heard someone yell for him to run.

So he did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry


	10. Sick of Losing Soulmates

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oh shit

Ernst watched as Moritz ran, somehow managing to push through the crowd as they still stood frozen in their places. He turned his attention back to Hanschen, who was still propped up on his shoulders. There was blood all around him, making him look paler and paler each second.

He wanted to run to him, but the combination of the hands holding him back and his own feet feeling heavy as lead wouldn’t let him move. Time passed differently as he watched Hanschen’s shoulders start to shake under his own weight. His glazed eyes caught Ernst’s, and he smiled before he fell to the ground.

Ernst felt the tears start to fall down his face. He wasn’t sure if he made any noise, but it’s not like it mattered much. The crowd had begun chattering loudly once again, drowning out any grief he could have let loose.

He kept his eyes fixed on Hanschen. “Move.” He thought, “Breathe, cough, do something! You can’t be…”

He was. It hit Ernst like a ton of bricks. He backed away, slowly at first, but eventually turned and started running. He wasn’t quite sure where he was going, but anywhere was better than standing there and staring at his lover’s corpse.

He stopped on the side of a closed-up shop, and finally he let it all wash over him. He fell to his knees, praying to anyone who would listen that this wasn’t real. He remembered sitting with him all of those times, talking about the epic poems of Homer and Virgil.

He thought of Achilles’ blind rage as he held his lover’s body close to his chest. The trojan blood that stained his hands as he tore through the enemy’s lines of defense and found the man responsible for all of this heartache.

He thought about how Achilles followed Patroclus, so close behind him, to the grave. He looked down at his own hands as they shook. 

He did not get the luxury of revenge. He laughed bitterly, knowing he would never have had it in him anyway. Boldness was no longer his style. The only person that had ever given him any reason to live for a reason beyond surviving was lying dead in the center of the market.

But he knew he couldn’t follow. He didn’t quite have that in him either. All of these actions were reserved for the heroes of a long gone time, not for scared boys who sat on the sidelines and watched as people braver than him fought and died for something larger than themselves.

Hanschen took a sword to the side for Moritz, for no reason other than love. Ernst had stood at the side and watched him die.

He simply didn’t deserve to follow him. Wherever Hanschen had gone, Ernst was convinced he couldn’t have gotten in anyway.

He made his way back home, his chest feeling hollow. He was in no rush to pretend to mourn the man that took everything from him, but he knew that he couldn’t leave Martha alone. 

God, he hadn’t even considered that. He supposed he would be getting married soon. Not only that, but it seemed that in the eyes of the entire world, he was going to be a-

He paused, a new rush of adrenaline coursing through his veins. He had to get back home immediately.

He tore through the streets at full speed, dodging pedestrians and ignoring the burning feeling in his own chest. By the time he arrived home, Melchior’s corpse had already been dragged back to the manor and was laying on the floor in the grand hall. Someone had closed his eyes and draped his arms over his chest in an attempt to make him look more peaceful. His mother knelt over him, sobbing as she tried to wake her son up.

From what he could tell, she was the only one mourning. Everyone else kept their distance, their disgust evident as they whispered amongst themselves. One of the men who had accompanied Melchior into town that day was talking with Lord Bessel. 

They looked over to him, and Ernst saw the boy point at him and whisper something in the older man’s ear. Lord Bessel gestured for him to come over, which Ernst obliged to.

“Repeat what you told me.” He said coldly to the boy. The other young man looked at Ernst, giving a vague recounting of the events that had just taken place. He had carefully left out certain details, most notably about Martha’s pregnancy. He gave Ernst a pleading look as he glossed over the spot where the revelation should have gone, but Ernst pretended he didn’t see it. When the boy finished, Lord Bessel looked back up at Ernst. “Is any of this true?”

“Yes, my lord.” Ernst said simply.

The older man raised an eyebrow. “All of it?”

Ernst swallowed, knowing that saying yes meant demonizing Moritz. He looked over to Martha, who stood still as a statue. She clearly didn’t know what happened yet. Ernst knew that right now, protecting her needed to be his top priority. He would just have to assume that wherever Moritz was, he knew what he was doing.

“Yes.” Ernst confirmed. All of it.”

Lord Bessel let out a displeased sigh. He turned to one of his officials. “I want Lord Stiefel’s son’s head on a platter.” He said it so casually that it sent chills down Ernst’s spine. There was no real malice or grief, just simple duty. Someone from the Stiefel hose had killed his heir, it was only an equal exchange. “If he is not delivered to me in the week, Then his father will be paying retribution for his son’s actions. He can expect to empty half of his treasury if his boy isn’t dead by Monday.” 

Martha and Ernst made eye contact, and he desperately wished he could run to her. He would tell her everything, and the two could cry together. Right now, standing in this circle of heartless, money hungry men, he felt so alone.

“Sir, before you go…” The boy gave an unsure tug on Lord Bessel’s sleeve. Ernst watched as he whispered into the older man’s ear. Lord Bessel’s eyes flashed with anger, and he looked over to where Martha was standing.

Wendla must have seen, and began pulling Martha gently in the direction of her chambers. Panic rose in Ernst’s chest, and without thinking he grabbed Lord Bessel’s sleeve.

“Sir, I have a suggestion about the wedding!” Ernst stood between him and Martha, though not as confidently as he should have. “I feel like it is in all of our best interest to move the wedding forward as soon as possible-”

“Out of my way.” Lord Bessel grumbled, pushing past Ernst to follow his daughter. Ernst followed him closely, trying to calm him down.

“Tomorrow,” He pleaded. “It will do everyone good to get their mind off of-”

Lord Bessel swung the door open to his daughter’s chambers. “You little slut!” He roared. Martha scrambled up from where she sat on the bed.

Ernst tried to get between the two. “My lord, please-!”

“You wish to make a mockery of this family?” He yelled, taking a few steps closer to Martha. She stumbled backwards, her eyes wide with fear. “You would whore yourself out to your cousin’s murderer?”

He gave her no time to respond, instead grabbing a heavy candlestick holder off of the dresser. Wendla let out a scream as he began to swing it towards Martha’s stomach. Ernst wasted no time pushing his way between them. He pushed Martha back, the candlestick holder swinging close enough to his own stomach that he could feel the way it cut through through the air.

“It is mine!” He yelled, his grip on Martha’s arm tightening as if that alone would be enough to save her.

This got Lord Bessel’s attention. He allowed his makeshift weapon to fall at his side as Ernst continued. “The child is mine. I am the one to blame, not Martha.”

He turned back to his daughter. “Is this true?”

She did not answer. Instead, her hands clutched her stomach in fear as the tears began to fall down her cheeks. Ernst jumped to her defense. “She is shaken up, my lord. She has not yet had time to process what has happened to Melchior yet.”

Lord Bessel looked displeased, but let the candlestick holder fall from his hand. “I will grant your wish to marry you tomorrow.” He said to Ernst. “But if this child is born, and I see anything on his face that could imply that I have been lied to, he will not live to see his second day.”

Martha let out a strangled sob as her father left the room. She fell to her knees, her hand tight over her mouth. Ernst knelt next to her, wrapping his arms around her as they cried.

“Moritz…” She began. “Did he really-?”

Ernst nodded, his grip tightening around her.

“Is he alright?” She asked, her voice quieter. “Is he safe?”

Ernst didn’t know how to answer that. He had no idea if Moritz was safe, or even if he was still alive. Martha took his silence for an answer. She reached out and caressed his face, which was wet with tears. “Hanschen?”

Ernst said the words that had been running through his mind for the past few hours. It suddenly felt so real. 

“Hanschen is dead.”

\---

Ilse was gently binding Moritz’s wounds, trying her best to coax any information from him.

“What on earth could have possessed you to come here?” She asked, wiping off another cut he had gotten from the rough thorn bushes that grew wild in the woods.

Moritz winced at the pressure, his hands tightening on the folded up blanket that was acting as his bed. He was not sure what this old, abandoned room in the nunnery and been before, but he was quite positive that it must not have been too important if Ilse was sure that no one would come to check in here.

“I’m sure you will find out soon enough,” He said humorlessly. “Word spreads quickly in Verona.”

Ilse did not seem pleased with this answer, but she did not pry. “You are lucky that it was me who answered the door and not Mother Superior. Injured or not, if she knew you were going to be this much trouble she would have sent you on your way.”

“Oh, come on! Since when do you care about not being any trouble?” Moritz joked. Ilse smiled at him, finishing her work and leaning back.

“Some of us do have to grow up at some point, Moritz.” Ilse pointed out. “Not all of us have someone like Hanschen to talk them out of all consequences.”

Hanschen. Moritz winced at the mention of his name. He wanted to cry, but he had already let all of his tears out hours ago, when he crouched under a tree deep in the woods and allowed everything to settle in at once.

“How is he, anyway?” She asked. “God, it feels like it's been a lifetime since the three of us played in all of those secret passageways that we would find all throughout the manor! Do you remember the one in the kitchen that locked from the outside?”

Moritz actually laughed at the memory. “Yes! We all were locked in there for almost four hours! You started yelling about how we were going to die, and the cook opened the door while Hanschen and I were pushing on it!”

“You fell flat on your face!” She laughed. “And right in front of that servant girl that you thought was really cute, too!”

Moritz smiled at how embarrassed he had been. If only he had known how easy life actually was back then. “We did have some remarkable times… Why ever did they send you away?”

Ilse bit her lip. “I suppose we are all entitled to our secrets, aren’t we?”

Moritz gave his cousin a solemn nod. Ilse’s smile came back not a minute later. “You didn’t answer my question! How is he? Is he still scared of the catacombs?”

Moritz let out a less genuine laugh. “I’m still mad at you for pushing us in there when we were thirteen.”

Ilse looked up at him, waiting for an answer that He knew she didn’t want to hear. “... He is well. And yes, he is still terrified for the catacombs.”

It was ironic and horrifying that that’s probably where he was right now.

Ilse smiled. “I hope to see him soon… I missed you both terribly.”

Moritz smiled at her. “Don’t worry… I’ll be sure to tell him hello for you.” 

“Are you going to be seeing him soon?” Ilse asked.

Moritz bit his lip. “Yes…” he answered vaguely. “Much sooner than you would think.”

\---

When he opened his eyes, there was a blinding light. Hanschen sighed, hoping to god that heaven wasn’t going to stay this bright. The light was already starting to give him a headache, and the pain in his side was unbearable…

Wait a minute!

He sat up quickly, irritating the bandages that were wrapped around his torso. He could feel the cold stone floor before his eyes even adjusted fully. The bright light was just the dwindling sunlight filtering through the small, high window in the center of one of the walls. He recognized this room. It was one of the old storage rooms in the cellar of Stiefel Manor, one that used to hold grains until the mill was built on the southern portion of the grounds.

“Hello?” He called, his voice raspy but still loud enough to carry through the empty stone room. A few moments later, the door creaked open.

“You’re awake.” A man said. “Good.”

Hanschen looked up, shocked to see Lord Stiefel himself walk into the room. He handed Hanschen a tin cup of water, which he drank quickly. 

“Here is how this will go,” The older man began. “I will ask you questions, and you will answer them swiftly and truthfully.”

Hanschen did not answer, staring at his empty tin cup. Lord Stiefel grabbed him by the hair, pulling him up to a kneeling position. “Do you understand me?”

Hanschen nodded. Lord Stiefel seemed pleased as he let go of his hair, causing Hanschen to slump back down to the ground. He pushed himself up slowly to a sitting position. “Is it true that my son killed the heir to the Bessel estate?”

With a weak voice, Hanschen answered. “Yes.”

“Is it true that he ran away immediately afterwards?” The older man continued.

“Yes.” Hanschen said, his heart heavy.

Lord Stiefel nodded. “Do you know where he went?”

Hanschen looked up, realizing what was being asked of him. Terrified, he asked a question of his own. “What will happen to him?” He asked. “Do they want to-”

“Answer me, where did he go?” Lord Stiefel asked, his voice angrier.

Hanschen pursed his lips, shaking his head. He felt a sharp pain in his stomach, and it took his groggy brain far too long to realize that Lord Stiefel had kicked him.

“I will not ask you again, where did he go?” The man was seething. Hanschen pushed himself back up, but stayed silent. Lord stiefel’s eyes narrowed. “He cannot hide forever. We will find him. And once we do, the first thing he will see is your head taken clean off of your shoulders.”

Hanschen looked up at the nobleman. 

“I consider it the highest honor, my lord.”

\---

Martha sat on her bed, curled up in her nightgown. All the lights were off except for the candle on the desk. Her letter that she had written to Moritz sat on the top, with all the letters he had ever written to her underneath it.

She wished she could cry, but her tears were gone. Instead, she laid back and rubbed her hand on her stomach. She went from rubbing circles over her navel to tracing little hearts around it.

There was a knock on the door. Martha didn’t call out, but rather closed her eyes. She didn’t want to see anyone. Another knock rang out.

“Who is it?” She gave in, calling out half heartedly.

Instead of answering, Wendla opened the door just enough for her to slip in. She closed it carefully, turning to face Martha.

“I don’t require any assistance.” Martha said simply. “You may be excused.”

Wendla bit her lip. “It’s not his child, is it?”

There was a moment of tense silence. Martha pushed herself up to a sitting position, sighing. “No.” She said. “No, it’s not.”

“Do you love him?” Wendla asked, sitting down on the bed.

Martha let out a dry laugh. “Of course I love Ernst, he’s-”

“I’m not talking about Ernst.” Wendla cut her off. She looked more serious than usual.

Martha knew who she meant. She hugged herself a little. “I do. More than you can possibly imagine…” She sighed. “But that doesn’t matter now.”

Wendla didn’t respond right away. Instead, she pulled a small drawstring bag from the pocket she had sewn into her dress. Gently, she placed the bag into Martha’s hands.

Martha furrowed her brow, pulling the bag open and tipping out the contents. A small vial of blue liquid came rolling out and fell into her palm. “Wendla… what is this?”

Wendla closed her hands around Martha’s. “It’s a way out…”

“I don’t understand…” Martha shook her head. “What does that mean?”

“Do you trust me?” Wendla asked her.

Martha sighed. “Of course I do, but I don’t understand.”

“All you need to do is drink this… It will put you to sleep for a few days. I will tend to everything else, and when you wake up you will be free to do as you please.” Wendla explained. 

“Is it safe?” She asked.

Wendla squeezed her hand. “It will be…”

Martha looked at the vial, then back at Wendla. She thought about the possibility of really being able to be with Moritz, to make a future with him and their baby.

“You don’t know how much this means to me…” Martha smiled for the first time in what felt like forever. “Really, Wendla… this is… Thank you!”

She hugged the girl tightly, giving Wendla a kiss on the cheek. She pulled back happily, looking back to the vial. With trembling hands, she opened it up and drank it all in one sip.

Immediately, her limbs began to feel heavy. Her head was spinning as she felt herself falling backwards. 

Then, she felt nothing at all.


	11. If The Whole World Was Watching, I’d Still Dance With You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Let’s get a few f’s in the chat...

The next morning came far too early for Ernst. The sun filling the room felt like it would burn him if he unwrapped himself from the blankets around. He figured if he just stayed in bed, then maybe the day’s events will not happen.

It wasn’t until he heard a knock on the door that he knew this wasn’t an option. He sat up, hesitantly. “I am awake.”

The knocking came frantically once more. “My Lord, come quick!”

There was something in the urgency of the servant’s voice that made Ernst leap up. He was grateful that he had fallen asleep in his clothes as he swung the door open. The servant boy looked at him with wide eyes for a moment before leading him through the halls.

Ernst swore that his heartbeat cesed for a moment when they stopped at Martha’s door. He could hear the chaos inside, but only when he opened the door did he truly see what it was all about.

Lady Bessel knelt at the bedside, her face buried in the blanket in a vain attempt to muffle her cries. Wendla stood at her side, her hand resting on the woman’s shoulder.

Martha was lying on the bed, motionless. Her skin wasn’t the warm brown it had been last night. Now, it looked grey and dull. Her mother was holding her hand, but Martha did not hold it back.

Wendla looked up when she heard Ernst enter. She leaned down, whispering something softly into Lady Bessel’s ear. The woman looked up at Ernst as well, her teary eyes unreadable. She looked back to Martha.

“I’m so sorry, baby…” She whispered, pressing a kiss to Martha’s cold, limp hand. Slowly, she rose from the spot in which she had been kneeling. Wendla led her out of the room with a gentle touch, as if anything harsher would cause the older woman to shatter into pieces. She stopped for a moment in front of Ernst. Wendla opened her mouth, like she was going to tell him something, but closed it as if she had decided against it.

The two left, and Ernst was alone.

He found himself moving to the bed, sitting down next to Martha’s unmoving body. He picked up the hand that her mother had heft unheld, as if it would get cold if he didn’t keep it warm.

It was already cold.

He squeezed it, closing his eyes and pretending for a moment that he could feel her squeezing back. He didn’t cry, though he wanted to. He laid down, curling up next to her and resting his head on her shoulder.

Now he truly was alone.

\---

Moritz was right. Word did travel fast. Two nobles of the house of Bessel dead within a day, one stabbed through the chest in the middle of the market. The moment the boy who they often sent into town came back, it was all he would talk about.

The rumors of the daring sword fight.

The blood that still stained the stones.

The son of Lord Stiefel fled immediately after it had been done.

Ilse came running down the stairs, looking around to see if anyone was watching before ducking into the small room where she had hidden her cousin.

Moritz jumped as she swung the door open and then closed it quickly.

“Ilse, what’s-”

“Did you kill him?” She didn’t waste any time asking. Moritz’s eyes widened. He stood silent before sighing and looking down at the ground.

“... Yes.”

Ilse shook her head. “Why? What had he done to you?”

Moritz looked angry. Angrier than Ilse had ever seen him. “What did he not do? He took everything from me- I didn’t want to-” He began to stutter, as if he couldn’t exactly word the thoughts running through his mind. He looked back up at Ilse, seeming a bit calmer. “There’s a lot I haven’t told you…”

“I can see.” Ilse tried not to sound too cold. “Luckily, I have a lot of time on my hands nowadays.” She sat on the floor. “You can start by telling the truth, should that suit you.”

Moritz took a deep breath before he began. Ilse listened as he told the story as clearly as he could. How they had gone to the party in disguise, the instant connection he had felt to her, the letters, the wedding… And the events that led to the fight in the market.

Ilse felt the tears well up in her eyes. “So, Hanschen… he’s-?”

Moritz nodded, his own cheeks were wet now with tears. “Yes…”

“Then I do not condemn your actions.” Ilse said quietly. “I only hope that it caused him as much pain as it could have.”

Moritz laughed dryly. “I would hope so too.”

They sat for a little longer, neither making a sound. Eventually, Moritz broke the silence. “I assume the wedding is today… Did any of your news give away how my wife may be doing?”

Ilse felt a pang in her chest. His wife… Martha. The daughter of Lord Bessel, found dead this morning in her chambers with an empty vial laying next to her. 

She looked up to Moritz, who was waiting for her response. He must have noticed how long it was taking her to answer.

“Ilse?” He asked. “What is it, is something wrong?”

She knew she had to tell him, but she was afraid of what he may do if he knew. She grabbed his hands, pulling him back down to a sitting position. He looked so vulnerable, and for a moment she couldn’t do it.

“Ilse?” He whispered, and only then did she notice that she was crying harder.

“Moritz,” She began gently. “I’m so sorry…”

Something dawned on him. She could see it in his face. He squeezed her hands harder, more frantically. “Is she alright? Please, Ilse! Tell me she’s alright!”

Ilse knew that there was no hiding it anymore. “Martha is dead.”

Something died in him.She saw it all in pieces, fragments as the last bit of hope in him shattered. He stared at the ground blankly before letting go of her hands and standing. “I thank you for your hospitality. But I’m afraid it’s time for me to go.”

“Moritz, please…” Ilse tried to scramble up after him. “Don’t leave, I know what you’re going to do! Please, just stay here! I can keep you hidden, no one will ever find you!”

Moritz did not look back at her. Instead, he held his hand on the door. He didn’t move in either direction as if he was considering it. 

Ilse looked down, the tears streaming down her face. Finally, she heard the door creak open.

“I wish I could…” He said quietly.

Then he was gone.

\---

“Hanschen!” There was someone outside of the door to his small, locked room. Hanschen pulled himself up a little easier then he could yesterday. 

The door creaked open, and Otto slid in. Hanschen narrowed his eyes.

“Otto?” He asked weakly. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“I had to see if it was true…” He looked down to the bandages wrapped around Hanschen’s torso. “You have no idea how bad we were all scared. There was so much blood when they brought you in.”

“Well, I must say that your recovery accommodations are not the best.” Hanschen gave a weak laugh. “Are you supposed to be down here?”

Otto bit his lip. “No… But the rest of the house is quite preoccupied with trying to find-” He cut himself off. “They’re preoccupied.”

“And you have the key?” Hanschen asked.

“They leave it hanging on a hook beside the door.” Otto laughed. He looked at Hanschen. “So is it true? The rumor about Moritz and Lord Bessel’s daughter?”

Hanschen shifted, causing the bandages to rub against his wound. “Some of it… It’s really not how it sounds.”

“...Do you know what happened?” Otto asked carefully.

Hanschen laughed. “You men with the baby accusation? No, I’m sure I don’t want to know what exactly happened-”

“No.” Otto said firmly. “I mean do you know what happened this morning?”

Hanschen raised an eyebrow. “I can’t say I have. What happened?”

Otto sighed. “She died. They say it was suicide.”

It was so easy for Otto to say. He had never met her. He had never seen how she looked the night of the wedding, how she had looked at Moritz as if he was the stars. He had never seen how excited she was to see him that night only a few weeks ago. He hadn’t been taking notice of how she danced with him that night.

Hanschen had barely known her, but he did know how strong and passionate her love was. He had heard it from Ernst and Moritz time and time again. The fact that she was gone somehow made his world a little darker.

He thought of Moritz, and how hard this would hit him. Suddenly, he had a whole new fear..

“Otto, you have to help me.” He said immediately. Hanschen tried to reach for the wall, using it to pull himself up. It hurt like hell, but he didn’t have time to be careful.

Otto rushed to stop him from falling over. “Hanschen, where are you going?”

“The catacombs.” He said simply. “How far are we from the west wing basement?”

Otto shook his head. “Not far, why?”

“I need you to take me there.” Hanschen began taking his first few hesitant steps. It took him a second, but he eventually got his balance. “I can take it from there.”

“Do you think Moritz is in trouble?” Otto thought for a second. “More trouble than he’s already in?”

Hanschen leaned down carefully, retrieving his shirt from the ground. It was still blood stained and dirty, but it would have to work for now.

“No,” Hanschen responded absently. “Not yet, at least.”

\---

The funeral was hosted almost immediately. The flowers that had been intended for the wedding were put to a new use, being placed around Martha’s body in an attempt to make it look peaceful.

Ernst had allowed his soul to take a break during the service. He stood, his mind checked out as they buried Martha in her green dress, surrounded by white flowers. She was covered up by a white linen and placed in the family mausoleum like a pretty decoration. Melchior was placed in a spot not too far away, covered in a linen as well.

The crowd was exiting through the opening of the tomb when Ernst seemed to come out of his daze.

“We will discuss the next steps that we must take as soon as we can.” Lord Bessel said to him, his hand placed on his shoulder. 

Ernst had no interest in discussing business at this moment. “If it would please you, I would like to stay here for just a few more moments.”

Lord Bessel gave a nod of affirmation, no sympathy in his eyes as he turned away. Ernst watched as the rest of the funeral party walked past him, none paying him any mind as they left.

Finally, when he was alone, he fell to his knees and cried. He hadn’t yet found the time to do so, with all of these cold people surrounding him like vultures. Crying in their presence would have only given them ammunition to use against him.

He let go of everything he had been holding in, very aware of what the rest of his life would look like. The heir to the Bessel Estate, a political leader. He could see himself thirty years from now, married to a pretty but detached aristocratic woman. He was cold, and alone.

He didn’t want to go back and face that yet. Instead, he leaned back against the solid wall of the mausoleum, watching as the daylight began to retreat beneath the horizon. The sun was low in the sky, casting a golden glow over everything in sight.

Ernst was torn from his thoughts by the sound of footsteps. He looked to the stone path that led to the opening of the tomb.

It was Moritz, standing at the path’s foot and staring up at the family name carved into the stone. Ernst jumped up, alerting the other boy that he was there.

“Ernst?” He asked, face unreadable.

Ernst felt a sudden need rise up. He saw the dagger attached to Moritz’s belt, and he felt the sickening fear that he knew what the other boy’s aim was. “Moritz…” He whispered.

Looking at him was like looking at Martha and Hanschen. They had both loved this boy so deeply, and the fact that he was alive made it feel like parts of them were too. He wasn’t letting them die a second time.

Moritz looked at Ernst, dressed in all black. “So it’s true…”

“Moritz, how about we go somewhere else to talk about this.” Ernst urged. “It isn’t safe for you to be here. If someone from my house comes back, you could be killed.”

Moritz didn’t move. “I need to see her.” He said, trying to push past Ernst to enter the mausoleum. Ernst grabbed the boy’s shirt to stop him.

“Allow me to go with you.” He said. “You shouldn’t be alone at a time like this.”

“Ernst, please just let me go.” Moritz begged.

“No!” Ernst didn’t mean for his voice to raise. “I know what you are going to do! I am not going to let you make it so they died in vain!”

“It’s my fault they're dead!” Moritz yelled. “I started this, I need to end it before someone else gets hurt… Before you get hurt!”

Ernst pushed Moritz back out of the entryway. “This won;t bring them back!”

“You don’t understand-” Moritz began.

Ernst felt his own patience fall apart. “Do you think you were the only one that loved them?” He hissed. “Do you truly think that I don’t know how much it hurts to think about how every day I am going to wake up in a world where they don’t exist anymore? It is going to hurt, but I will not let you throw away what Hanschen died to protect and what had kept Martha alive for the past few months!”

Moritz looked down in shame. He seemed to think for a moment before he looked back up “Alright…” He said quietly. “Alright, we can go.”

Ernst sighed a breath of relief, wrapping Moritz up in a hug. 

“Ernst.” Moritz whispered.

“Yes?” Ernst asked, still not willing to let go of Moritz just yet.

“... I’m sorry.”

Ernst felt a sharp pain in the back of his head, and then everything went dark.

\---

Moritz braced his legs as Ernst went limp in his arms. He could feel the other boy’s heartbeat as he fell against his chest. He carefully lowered the unconscious boy to the ground, leaning him against the wall gently.

“I truly apologize, Ernst.” He said, wishing the other boy could hear him. “I Wish this had all been different.”

He stood, turning his attention to the darkness of the mausoleum. He felt his heart seize as he took his first, hesitant step into the dark. The passageway that led to the tomb had no light, but it seemed that the funeral procession had left some of the torches glowing near the stairs that led downward towards where Martha was laid to rest.

Moritz stood at the top step, suddenly scared to go any farther. He knew what was down there, and he knew what awaited him if he went any further. The dagger at his side suddenly felt heavy and cold.

But the idea of going on without her was far too much for him to bear. 

He took the stairs two steps at a time, finally entering the Bessel’s tomb. He was surrounded by the bones of his family’s enemies, long dead and somehow still able to remind him that he was not supposed to be here. They all laid decrepit in their finery, shoved into the horizontal cutouts in the wall. Only two bodies were left out in the open, covered up with white linen as they awaited for someone to find them a slot in the wall in which they can rest.

Moritz approached the body closest to him, kneeling down next to it. He took the corner of the linen, pulling it back slowly.

Melchior laid beneath it, pale as the fabric that covered him. Moritz felt that sharp stab of guilt again in his chest, making him cover the boy back up. “I’m truly sorry…” He muttered, pressing his head to Melchior’s linen covered forehead.

He looked over to the other body, knowing the familiar shape that lay underneath it. He stood, suddenly feeling weightless as he made his way to her side. He fell to his knees, seeing the white flowers that peeked from under the cloth.

He took the corner of the linen in his hands, the pressure in chest building up as he tore the linen off in one swift movement.

She was unstirred. Suddenly, it was all so real to Moritz. She was no longer a rumor, but cold and stiff under his own hands. Her skin looked grey and lifeless, and Moritz felt the tears begin to well up in his eyes.

He gathered her in his arms, limp and heavy, and sobbed into her cold neck. He pressed a kiss there, wishing more than anything that she could feel it. His hand shook as he laid it over her stomach, where their baby’s growth had ceased along with her mother’s heartbeat.

After a few moments, he drew back and looked down at Martha’s face a little longer. He closed his eyes, satisfied that she would be the last thing he ever saw. He was in no rush as he reached to his side and pulled the dagger from the holder on his belt. He felt at it with his finger tips, trying to find the sharpened end of it as he raised it up to his neck.

He felt a sharp pain on his thumb as it caught against the blade, and he smiled. He turned the dagger, pressing the sharp edge to his neck. He wondered what he would say to Hanschen, who would no doubt be angry to see him so soon. He thought of Martha, dressed in the green gown that they had met in. She would no doubt be equally as angry, but that was alright. The thought of seeing them gain, of holding them, of laughing with them was enough to wash away all of his fear.

Moritz tightened his grip, now prepared to drag the blade across his throat and die in his wife’s arms. He only wished he could see the looks on the faces of those who came to move her when they find him lying dead as well.

He went to move his arm, but something was holding him back…

Someone.

Moritz’s eyes flew open, and he suddenly felt as though the weight of the world had lifted. There was a dark brown hand wrapped around his wrist, stopping him from running the blade across his throat. Martha was staring up at him, her eyes wide with terror.

Moritz dropped the dagger, only acutely aware of the clanging sound it made as it hit the stone floor. He wrapped his arms around her, a new round of sobs racking through his body as he held her close.

She wrapped her arms around him too, rubbing small circles in his back. “It is alright,” She whispered, crying as well. “I am alright.”

Moritz had never felt joy like this before. It bubbled around him as he pulled her in for a kiss.

They were going to be alright.

\---

Hanschen ran as quickly as his injury would allow him, which he was beginning to realize was not very fast. 

Climbing out of the catacombs had been a feat of it’s own, seeing as sword wounds did not fare well with ladders. The only thing that had kept him going was the pure adrenaline coursing through his veins. He only hoped that this was where Moritz had gone… he shuddered to think of what might happen to his brother if he was wrong.

Hanschen knew he had guessed correctly when he saw the mausoleum in the distance with the door hanging wide open. There was a body slumped against the opening, and for a moment he was afraid that he was too late.

He went a bit faster, almost running at a normal pace. The closer he got, the better he could see the young man that was laying limp against the entrance to the tomb.

“Ernst!” He called, kneeling next to his lover as he felt desperately for a pulse. Before he could locate the boy’s heartbeat, Ernst’s eyes opened up slowly. He reached out, smiling sadly as he caressed Hanschen’s face.

He gave a weak laugh, and Hanschen felt the relief wash over him. “I missed you so much…” He whispered. “I didn’t think I would ever… I love you.”

Hanschen narrowed his eyes in confusion, which only made Ernst laugh a bit more. “I suppose I shouldn’t say that too loudly here, should I?”

“My dear, where exactly do you think we are?” Hanschen asked, suddenly concerned for how hard Ernst must have hit his head.

“Heaven?” Ernst said a little clearer. “It would have to be… You’re… you-”

“Died?” Hanschen finished for him. He gave his poor, disoriented lover a sweet smile. “I am flattered, but we both know quite well that I’m not bound for Heaven.”

The fog seemed to clear from Ernst’s eyes all at once. He sat up quickly, his hands moving to feel Hanschen’s chest, torst, face, and neck in rapid succession as if he were afraid that he would disappear. Hanschen laughed, grabbing Ernst’s hands and kissing them. “I am alright…” He whispered to him.

Ernst asked no questions. Instead, he pulled him into his lap for a long kiss. Hanschen kissed back, and for a moment his anxieties melted away.

They pulled back, slowly as if moving too fast would wipe this moment away like smoke.

Ernst’s face fell. “Moritz! He was here, he-”

The two turned their heads quickly, hearing footsteps coming from the tomb. They jumped apart, staring wide eyed as a figure emerged from the doorway and into the dwindling light of the dusk.

“... Moritz.” Hanschen sighed in relief. His brother looked up, and his eyes widened. He stopped in his tracks, unsure of what to do.

Finally, he walked over to him, looking quite angry.

“Moritz, I know you’re probably mad, but-” He was cut off by his brother pulling him in for a tight hug.

“Don’t you even think about doing that again!” He said angrily. “You have no idea how scared I was! I thought you had died!”

Hanschen smiled, hugging him back. “Now you understand how I have felt for the last seventeen years.”

He was glad that Moritz laughed, because he was positive that if the roles were reversed, Hanschen would not have.

They parted, and Hanschen watched with his mouth agape as Martha stepped into the fading light. Ernst wrapped her up in his arms, practically twirling her in his arms as they both cried and laughed at the same time.

That’s when the reality hit Hanschen.

He smiled, looking from his brother, to his sister-in-law, then to his own lover. He smiled, watching as the small group held their tearful reunion underneath the starry sky.

They were free.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ha! The f’s in the chat are for you! You really thought I was gonna kill them? Think again, happy epilogue on its way!

**Author's Note:**

> This took FOREVER but here it is


End file.
